ARJADNE 


ALLAN  WATER- 


siDNEY 
MCCALL 


\  • 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER 


"  Come,  my  poor  darling.       Come,  my  little  bruised  white 
rose,"   he  whispered.     FRONTISPIECE.     See  Page  239. 


ARIADNE 
OF  ALLAN  WATER 


BY 

SIDNEY   McCALL 

AUTHOR  OF  "  TRUTH  DEXTER,"  "  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS,"  ETC. 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE   BY 
C.    H.   TAFFS 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,   BROWN,   AND   COMPANY 
1914 


Copyright,  1914, 
LITTIE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved 


Published,  April,  1914 


Printed    by    COLONIAL    PRESS: 
C.   H.   Simonds  C&   Co.,  Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


ARIADNE    OF  ALLAN   WATER 


ARIADNE    OF    ALLAN    WATER 

BOOK   ONE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  pale  glory  of  an  early  spring  sun  shone  full  on  the 
white  pillars  of  the  old  Virginia  home,  casting  a  long 
rectangle  of  shadow  over  kitchen,  barn,  smoke-house, 
chicken-house,  and  various  other  outer  buildings  that 
stood  at  the  rear. 

Beyond  this  cluster  of  humble  roofs  began  the  old 
apple  orchard,  now  in  an  ecstasy  of  bloom.  The  roseate 
billows  flowed  into  a  gentle  "dip,"  flooding  the  valley 
evenly,  and  scrambling,  in  some  disorder,  the  slope  of  the 
further  hillside.  Near  the  top  they  paused  abruptly 
at  sight  of  a  menacing  line  of  ragged,  gray  bowlders, 
among  which  only  a  few  young  cedars  had  footing,  and 
these  seemed  to  scowl  darkly  as  if  defying  anything  so 
frivolous  as  a  pink  apple  tree  to  gain  their  sky-poised 
eminence. 

On  the  flat  altar  of  the  nearest  rock  stood  the  blue- 
clad  'figure  of  a  girl,  Ariadne,  a  slim  young  goddess  of  the 
spring,  giving  and  receiving  homage. 

As  she  looked  now  upon  the  massed  flowers  at  her  feet, 
the  child  in  her,  nourished  by  fantastic  stories  of  my- 
thology, fairy  lore,  and  old-world  romances,  began  to 
weave  conscious  similes.  The  trees,  with  their  leaning 
trunks  and  outspread  branches,  were  court  ladies  in 
lace  and  fluttering  pink  ribbons,  assembled  in  an  audience 


2  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

chamber  before  a  throne ;  and  she,  Ariadne,  the  young 
queen.  She  smiled  and  stretched  out  arms  of  welcome. 
Almost  she  could  see  the  whispering  beauties  turn 
powdered  heads,  nodding  to  each  other  in  pleasure  at 
her  graciousness. 

Then  she  likened  them  to  a  mass  of  giant  posies, 
fashioned  and  afterward  spilled  by  some  careless  servitor 
on  his  too  hurried  way  toward  gilded  cloud-castles  be- 
yond the  hill.  The  birds  darting  among  them  were 
butterflies.  In  the  old  days  there  were  surely  giants. 
Even  the  Bible  spoke  of  them.  Was  it  not  possible  that 
even  now,  somewhere,  there  lived  a  stalwart  young  giant, 
beautiful  as  a  tall  tree,  who  could  have  stooped  over, 
snapped  off  a  whole  apple-bough  as  easily  as  she,  Ariadne, 
could  pick  a  dandelion,  and  thrust  it  nonchalantly  into 
his  green  buttonhole  ? 

She  laughed  and  let  her  fancies  vanish.  After  all  it 
was  sweeter  to  know  them  for  just  what  they  were,  her 
own  dear  trees,  each  one  an  individual  as  familiar  and 
distinct  as  the  human  folk  who  peopled  her  narrow  world. 
Now  her  arms  fell.  She  was  no  longer  a  priestess  or  a 
young  sovereign.  It  was  the  smile  of  a  girl  who  loved 
them  for  themselves,  that  now  deepened  in  the  sunshine. 
Finally,  as  if  satiated  with  loveliness,  Ariadne  lifted  her 
eyes  and  gazed  out  across  the  orchard,  the  big  white 
house,  and  the  wide  grounds,  straight  to  the  east,  to 
taller  hills  crowned  with  a  haze  of  dark  cedars. 

She  had  never  been  beyond  those  distant  hills,  nor, 
indeed,  had  she  ever  longed  to  pass  them.  Here  at  her 
feet  was  her  heritage,  kingdom,  where  she  was  the  petted 
queen.  No  other  spot  could  be  so  beautiful.  Even  the 
sun  was  but  a  part  of  it,  and  the  blue  span  of  sky  above 
as  much  her  own  as  the  green  lawn  about  the  Big 
House. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  3 

She  drew  herself  more  erect,  taking  in  deep  breaths  of 
morning  air.  She  felt  transparent,  tinged  throughout 
with  the  gold  of  it.  Life  was  so  wonderful,  so  exciting, 
that  she  wanted  to  laugh  aloud,  to  cry,  to  fall  upon  her 
knees,  thanking  the  great  Maker  of  it  all.  But,  of  course, 
one  fell  to  one's  knees  in  church  only,  or  by  one's  bed, 
at  night.  She  told  herself  to  remember,  when  bedtime 
came,  to  add  a  little  postcript  to  her  usual  prayer,  thank- 
ing God  for  making  the  world  so  exquisite.  She  hoped 
He  wouldn't  consider  it  familiar  or  a  little  disrespectful. 
She  must  ask  Grandma  about  it  first. 

Now  she  noticed,  down  among  the  apple  trees,  a  small 
brown  figure,  running.  It  was  Mammy's  little  grandson, 
Anguish.  Evidently  he  had  been  sent  to  fetch  her. 
She  watched  him  threading  his  way  like  an  eccentric 
shuttle.  Anguish  never  moved  in  a  straight  line.  In 
spite  of  his  characteristic  diagonals  of  motion,  there  was 
something  unnatural  about  him  —  something  too  busi- 
nesslike and  silent.  Yes,  that  was  it.  The  silence ! 
She  could  not  recall  ever  having  seen  him  in  the  open  air 
when  he  was  not  either  whistling  or  singing.  Uncon- 
sciously she  frowned,  and  the  smile  fled  from  her  lips. 

"I  wonder  why  he  isn't  singing?"  the  girl  mused. 
"Mammy  hasn't  walloped  him  this  early  in  the  day. 
She's  too  busy  getting  breakfast." 

Anguish  was  a  sort  of  imp  of  laughter,  a  brown  fiber 
of  restless  merriment.  His  whistling  embraced  all  the 
notes  of  all  known  birds,  not  disdaining  ludicrous  imita- 
tions of  barnyard  fowls.  He  could  make  a  brood  of 
"biddies"  leave  the  parent  hen  ;  but  his  proudest  boast 
was  that  he  could  "fool  er  squinch-owl  off'n  its  nest" 
and  lure  it  to  destruction.  With  his  possession  of  such 
attributes,  the  perversion  of  his  name  by  the  other 
negroes  from  "Angus"  to  the  more  euphonious  but 


4  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER 

absurdly  unsuitable  "Anguish"  became  a  lasting  joy 
to  the  entire  neighborhood. 

Anguish,  long  since,  had  caught  sight  of  his  young 
mistress.  Few  things,  indeed,  escaped  his  beadlike  eyes. 
He  ascended  the  farther  slope  at  a  run,  his  tongue  hanging 
out  for  breath,  and  the  white  rims  around  his  beads 
rolling  ominously.  He  had  been  strictly  schooled  in 
the  etiquette  never  to  "holler"  at  white  folks;  so  now 
it  was  not  until  he  stood  directly  beneath  the  blue  figure, 
and  had  executed  a  queer  little  genuflection,  that  he 
panted  out : 

"Ole  Miss  wants  you,  Miss  Airey.  She  sez  come  to 
breakfus  right  away.  She's  —  she's  —  got  a  letter  fum 
yo '  Paw." 

"Oh!"  said  the  girl,  scrambling  down.  "I  didn't 
know  it  was  so  late.  Has  Grandma  been  waiting  long 
for  me,  Anguish  ?" 

"Nome.  She  ain't  set  down  yit,"  answered  the  boy, 
not  looking  at  her.  "  She  wuz  a-readin'  de  letter.  She 

—  she—" 

"She  what?"  cried  Ariadne  impatiently.  Yes,  there 
was  surely  something  wrong  with  Anguish. 

"Ole  Miss  bin  —  cryin' !"  the  boy  burst  out,  and 
then  stood  still,  as  if  overpowered  by  his  own  words. 

Ariadne,  too,  paused.  She  could  scarcely  believe  it. 
A  second  look  at  the  small,  upturned,  frightened  face 
convinced  her.  She,  too,  was  beginning  to  feel  fright- 
ened. Grandma  crying  !  Somehow  she  had  not  thought 
that  grown  people  knew  how  to  cry.  And  as  for  grandma 

—  why,  that  gentle  face  smiled  even  in  its  sleep. 

"It  is  bad  news  about  father,"  her  heart  whispered. 
"It  can't  be  anything  else." 

Now  she  began  running.  The  boy  kept  swift  silent 
pace  at  her  heels.  She  asked  him  no  more  questions. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  5 

She  was  trying  not  to  think,  not  to  imagine  things,  until 
she  could  reach  home  and  learn  the  truth. 

Under  the  apple  trees  the  shadows  were  damp  and 
chill.  She  sped  through  them  like  a  startled  deer.  The 
outer  buildings,  too,  were  still  in  shadow.  Old  Uncle 
Peter  was  smoking  his  corn-cob  pipe  on  the  kitchen 
porch.  She  hurried  past  him  into  the  house  and  flung 
open  the  door  of  the  breakfast  room. 

This,  built  as  an  annex  to  the  main  building  and  con- 
sisting of  but  a  single  story,  had  been  set  at  an  angle 
where  the  earliest  sun-rays  could  find  it,  and  was  the 
chosen  spot  of  the  household.  First  used  for  breakfast 
only,  a  tentative  luncheon  had  been  served  there  because 
"it  was  so  cozy"  —  and  after  that  dinner,  and  grad- 
ually it  had  become  the  general  dining-room,  while  the 
stately  apartment  originally  intended  for  the  purpose 
was  preserved  for  months  at  a  time  in  shrouded  grandeur. 
Here  the  window-boxes  flowered  best,  and  the  wood-fire 
crackled  most  cheerily.  Old  Mrs.  Bannister's  ma- 
hogany sewing-table  with  glass  knobs  stood  in  the  sun- 
niest corner,  and  over  it  hung  a  little  rack  containing  the 
favorite  books  of  Ariadne's  childhood. 

As  she  now  entered,  breathless,  she  saw  that  her 
grandmother  stood  before  the  mantel  shelf.  One  hand 
was  upraised,  moving  among  white  roses,  a  bowl  of  which 
was  placed  directly  beneath  a  lifelike  portrait  of  her  only 
child,  Ariadne's  dead  young  mother.  The  other,  which 
held  a  crumpled  letter,  was  pressed  down  rigidly  at  her 
side,  half  disappearing  in  the  folds  of  her  full  black  skirt. 
Even  at  a  distance  the  girl  could  see  how  this  hand  with 
the  letter  trembled. 

Ariadne  did  not  wait,  but  cried  aloud,  in  coming : 
"Anguish  said  you  had  a  letter.  Oh,  Grandma  —  is 
father  sick?" 


6"  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER 

"No,  dear  —  nothing  of  that  sort.  He  is  quite  well," 
the  old  lady  answered,  trying  to  smile  at  her. 

The  girl  drew  in  a  long  shuddering  breath  of  relief. 
What  else  could  matter  if  her  father  were  well  ? 

"I  was  afraid  —  Anguish  was  so  queer  and  said  you 
wanted  me  at  once,"  Ariadne  explained,  as  if  excusing  her 
indecorous  excitement.  "But  it  is  all  right  now." 

She  went  up  to  the  old  lady,  putting  slim  young  arms 
around  her,  and  kissing  the  soft  cheek  that  always 
seemed  like  a  withered  white  rose.  Then  she  turned  to 
the  breakfast  table,  where  the  coffee  was  sending  up 
fragrant  and  inviting  steam.  Mrs.  Bannister's  glance 
followed.  She  moved  a  little  mechanically  toward  her 
place  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  as  Ariadne  held  the 
chair  for  her,  laid  the  crumpled  letter  down.  But  when 
she  attempted  to  serve  the  coffee,  her  hands  shook,  and 
after  an  effort  to  lift  it,  she  replaced  the  heavy  silver 
coffee-pot  and  said : 

"Ariadne,  I  must  ask  you  to  pour  it.  I  find  I  am  still 
too  much  unstrung." 

The  girl  moved  to  obey.  In  this  stronger  light  she 
saw  the  old  grandmother's  face  clearly.  The  mark  of 
recent  tears  was  unmistakable.  The  chin  quivered  and 
would  not  be  quieted,  though  it  was  evident  that  the  old 
lady  was  striving  with  all  her  power  for  self-control. 
Fear  came  again  to  the  granddaughter.  She  sank  back, 
forgetting  the  coffee. 

"It  is  something  bad,  after  all,"  she  faltered.  "Please 
tell  me  everything,  Grandma." 

"Yes,  in  a  moment,"  said  the  elder  lady,  pressing  a 
delicate  handkerchief  against  her  lips. 

Ariadne  held  out  her  hand.  "  Shan't  I  read  the  letter 
for  myself  ?  You  always  let  me  read  father's  letters." 

"No  —  no  —  "  said  Mrs.  Bannister,  covering  the  pages 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  7 

with  shaking  fingers.  "This  time  it  is  better  for  me  to 
tell  you  what  he  says.  He  asks  me  to  break  it  to  you 
as  I  think  best." 

"To  break  it  to  me,"  repeated  Ariadne,  frowning. 
She  rested  her  arms  upon  the  table  and  looked  with 
wondering,  troubled  eyes  into  her  grandmother's  face. 

The  old  lady  drew  herself  together  with  a  great  effort. 
She  sat  upright,  bracing  her  slender,  silk-clad  shoulders 
against  the  old  Gothic  chair  "There  is  no  easy  way  of 
saying  it,"  she  stated.  "Your  father  is  to  be  married 
again." 

"Married.  Father  married  ? "  repeated  the  girl.  The 
echoed  words  held,  at  first,  no  meaning. 

Mrs.  Bannister  sank  down  a  few  inches  and  put  the 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  Ariadne  stared  on,  unseeing, 
at  the  spot  where  her  grandmother's  eyes  had  been. 
That  one  word  "married"  reverberated  in  her  mind  as 
through  an  empty  room.  There  was  nothing  to  connect 
it  with  her  father.  What,  after  all,  did  it  mean  to  be 
married  ?  She  had  read  but  few  novels,  and  those  were 
of  Mrs.  Bannister's  choosing.  In  her  fairy  tales  the 
Prince  and  Princess  always  married  as  a  matter  of  course 
and  lived  happily  ever  after.  That  was  the  end  of  the 
story.  People  on  earth  did  it,  too,  she  supposed  — • 
young,  happy  people,  of  a  sort  that  never  came  to  Allan 
Water.  Perhaps  that  was  what  had  happened  to  her 
own  parents,  years  and  years  before.  Grandma  was 
never  tired  of  talking  about  the  beautiful  girl  whose 
portrait  made  of  this  little  room  a  shrine  —  of  the  way 
that  all  who  came  near  loved  her  —  of  the  young  hus- 
band's adoration  and  his  tender  and  inconsolable  grief 
when  she  had  been  taken  from  him.  Yet,  until  this 
moment  she  had  never  thought  of  that  exquisite  vision 
she  called  "mother"  as  ever  having  been  married. 


8  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Now  slowly  Ariadne  lifted  her  eyes  and  fixed  them 
upon  the  radiant,  pictured  face  above.  In  it  she  saw 
goodness,  youth,  and  an  immortal  happiness.  "So 
she  and  father  were  married,"  thought  the  child.  "Why 
couldn't  they  have  lived  happily  ever  after?  Why 
did  God  take  her  away?" 

The  last  words  were  whispered,  but  the  grandmother 
heard  them.  Their  significance  —  or  rather  what  she 
took  to  be  their  full  significance  —  combined  with  the 
girl's  upraised,  adoryig  look,  broke  down  her  last  strong- 
hold of  reserve.  Bending  over,  the  old  lady  sobbed 
aloud. 

Ariadne  sprang  up  and  put  her  arms  about  the  shaking 
figure.  "Why  do  you  cry  like  this,  Grandma?  It  is 
terrible  to  see  you  cry.  Does  it  mean  something  dreadful 
for  father  to  be  married  ?  Will  it  make  him  different  ?  " 

"No  — no.  It  isn't  that,  dear  child,"  the  old  lady 
said,  trying  to  speak  calmly.  "It  is  the  thought  of  his 
bringing  another  woman  here  —  to  this  house  —  to 
take  your  mother's  place." 

"But  how  can  anybody  else  take  her  place ?"  the  girl 
questioned,  with  another  glance  up  to  the  portrait. 
"  She  —  she  —  is  everywhere  ! " 

"That  is  a  very  beautiful  way  of  looking  at  it,"  replied 
the  old  lady.  "It  comforts  me.  There,  dear,  don't 
look  so  troubled.  I  shall  control  myself.  Already  I  am 
more  composed.  Ah,  I  hear  Mandy  coming  in  with  the 
rest  of  the  breakfast.  You  must  be  hungry  after  your 
morning's  walk." 

"I  am.     I'm  'most  starved,"  said  Ariadne  childishly. 

Mandy,  a  pretty,  young  mulatto  girl,  entered  with  a 
large  tray.  Just  behind  her,  like  a  shrunken  shadow, 
crept  Anguish.  He  was  peering  in  to  see  if  "Ole  Miss" 
was  still  crying.  Ariadne  was  conscious  of  a  sudden 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  9 

antipathy  to  the  little  creature,  a  feeling  made  poignant 
by  the  fact  that  she,  too,  had  known  the  sensation  of 
curiosity,  almost  of  repulsion,  at  the  sight  of  the  old  lady's 
tears.  She  frowned,  giving  a  quick,  indignant  gesture 
to  motion  this  "peeping  Tom"  away,  then  glanced 
around  to  her  grandmother  to  see  if  the  action  had  been 
observed. 

To  her  relief  the  elder  lady  had  seen  nothing.  She  sat 
a  little  stiffly  upright  in  her  accustomed  manner,  her  old 
face  tranquil,  and  her  hands  moving  with  their  usual 
precision  among  the  coffee  things.  As  Mandy  deposited 
the  last  warm  dish  upon  its  mat,  her  mistress  said 
evenly:  "I  think  that  Susan  will  have  to  warm  the 
coffee.  Miss  Airey  and  I  have  let  it  grow  quite  cold." 

The  tension  was  over.  Ariadne  began  with  a  relish 
upon  her  hominy,  scrambled  eggs,  and  bacon.  She  did 
not  notice  that  Mrs.  Bannister  made  a  mere  pretense  of 
eating.  When  the  hot  coffee  had  been  served,  and 
Mandy  been  sent  to  the  kitchen  for  the  first  batter-cakes, 
the  old  lady  remarked,  quite  casually  : 

"I  must  tell  you  something  more  of  the  lady  your 
father  is  to  marry." 

"Oh,  please,"  said  the  girl  eagerly. 

Mrs.  Bannister,  without  a  tremor,  unfolded  the 
sinister  epistle,  adjusted  her  gold-rimmed  spectacles, 
and  glanced  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the  first  page 
with  an  air  of  expurgation.  "She  is  quite  young,  Ran- 
some  says." 

Ariadne  beamed. 

"Still  in  her  early  thirties." 

The  young  face  fell  as  suddenly.  Thirties !  Why, 
anywhere  in  the  thirties  was  advanced  middle  age.  "I 
do  hope  she  is  pretty,"  said  the  girl  in  a  slightly  dejected 
tone. 


io  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER 

"Um  —  um  —  '  murmured  the  reader,  now  turning 
to  the  second  page.  "He  doesn't  say  it  in  so  many  words. 
But  you  may  be  sure  that  at  this  stage  he  would  think 
her  good-looking  whether  she  is  or  not." 

Again  Ariadne  felt  rebuffed.  She  had  never  heard  her 
grandmother  speak  in  such  a  deprecating  tone.  She 
cast  about  desperately  for  some  new  hope  on  which  to 
pin  her  faith. 

"If  father  likes  her  well  enough  to  —  to  —  bring  her 
here,"  she  cried,  not  being  able  yet  to  mention  the 
difficult  word  "marry,"  "I  am  sure  she's  pretty  and 
sweet  and  good  !  Don't  you  think  so  too,  Grandma  ? 
How  long  before  she  is  coming  ?  " 

"The  marriage  is  to  take  place  almost  immediately," 
transcribed  the  old  lady  in  a  colorless  voice.  "It  seems 
that  she  has  few  friends  and  no  near  relatives.  She 
visits  about  but  spends  most  of  her  time  in  Charles- 
ton." 

She  lowered  the  pages  and  looked  over  them  and  her 
glasses  at  Ariadne.  "At  least  we  can  be  thankful  that 
she  is  a  Southern  lady." 

The  reading  was  resumed.  "  Her  name  is  Miss  Donna 
Mayrant."  Again  a  pause,  followed  by  the  comment : 
"Her  mother  must  have  been  a  silly,  sentimental  crea- 
ture. Perhaps  she  traveled  in  Italy.  That's  an  Eye- 
Italian  name." 

"Is  it?"  murmured  Ariadne. 

"They  are  to  be  married  quietly  at  the  home  of  a 
Dr.  Ravenal,  who  is  her  cousin  twice  removed.  Then 
they  go  to  New  York.  Nellie  Henry  will  know  all  about 
them.  She  has  visited  in  Charleston." 

As  she  mentioned  the  name  "Nellie  Henry,"  Mrs. 
Bannister  gave  a  sharp  exclamation.  "Why,  Nellie  is 
coming  to  spend  the  day  with  us  —  this  very  day.  It 


ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER  n 

had  slipped  entirely  from  my  mind.  I  am  to  send  Peter 
to  the  station  for  her." 

She  began  to  move  her  chair  back,  at  which  Ariadne, 
getting  to  her  feet,  ran  to  assist.  The  service  was  per- 
formed somewhat  mechanically,  for  the  young  girl's 
thoughts  were  in  a  whirl. 

So  many  new  ideas  had  come  crowding  in  at  once. 
The  grandmother's  phrase:  "We  can  be  thankful  she 
is  a  Southern  lady,"  was  the  most  mystifying  of  all. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  there  were  any  ladies  not  "South- 
ern" ?  Her  world  was  peopled  entirely  with  Virginians, 
or  those  in  some  way  connected  with  Virginia  families. 
These  were  what  the  darkies  called  "quality"  and  old 
ladies  like  Mrs.  Bannister  termed,  complacently, "  gentle- 
folk." Aside  from  this  class  there  were,  of  course,  the 
remote  and  admirable  English  from  whom  all  Virginia 
ancestry  worthy  of  the  name  had  been  derived.  Some- 
where on  the  American  continent  was  a  race  called 
Yankees;  but  these  were  to  be  thought  of  as  little  as 
possible.  For  the  rest  of  the  inhabited  earth  there  were 
merely  "foreigners"  —  aggregations  of  human  beings  in 
various  tones  of  white,  yellow,  red,  and  brown,  who  fore- 
gathered in  places  so  utterly  unknown  that  they  might  as 
well  have  been  assorted  on  so  many  different  planets. 
Who  but  a  Southern  lady  could  be  an  inmate  of  Allan 
Water  ! 

There  was  no  time  to  lay  this  problem  before  a  more 
experienced  mind,  for  Mrs.  Bannister  had  already  sum- 
moned Mandy  and  was  giving  orders  to  have  the  phaeton 
in  readiness  at  once. 

As  the  young  negress  went  out,  Mrs.  Bannister  folded 
her  hands  and  let  them  fall  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction. 
"How  dreadful  if  I  had  forgotten  the  dear  girl  alto- 
gether !"  she  said.  "Her  note  came  with  your  father's 


12  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

letter,  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  I  overlooked  it 
just  at  first.  She  is  taking  the  nine  o'clock  train  from 
Culpeper.  I  am  sure  that  Peter  will  get  to  the  station 
in  time." 

"Oh,  Grandma,  can't  I  drive  to  the  station  for  Cousin 
Nellie  ?  "  pleaded  the  girl. 

As  the  elder  lady  hesitated,  she  cried:  "Did  Cousin 
Nellie  say  she  was  bringing  little  Dick  Carter  ?" 

"She  doesn't  mention  him,  but  she  will,  of  course. 
She  never  stirs  without  him.  I  do  trust  that  the  little 
negress  is  along  to  keep  up  with  the  child.  We  are 
unused  to  babies  over  here." 

"  I  hope  she  does  bring  him,"  said  Ariadne,  her  face 
sparkling.  "  He  is  such  a  precious  !  I  wish  he  lived 
here  all  the  time." 

From  Mrs.  Bannister's  perturbed  expression  it  could 
be  clearly  seen  that  she  did  not  share  the  girl's  desire. 
Her  gentle  old  eyes  were  moving  slowly  around  the 
immaculate  room. 

"Yes,"  she  murmured,  as  if  to  herself,  "  he  is  walking 
now.  I  must  have  my  sewing-tables  turned  around  with 
the  knobs  to  the  wall,  and  loop  up  the  tendrils  of  wander- 
ing-jew in  all  the  window-boxes." 

"But  may  I  drive,  Grandma?  Now  say  yes,  please. 
You  know  those  fat  horses  couldn't  run  away  if  they 
tried." 

"I  suppose  so,"  agreed  the  old  lady,  with  a  suppressed 
sigh.  Hers  was  a  nature  so  timid  of  accidents  that  no 
horse  save  a  dead  one  could  be  trusted  not  to  bolt.  "  But 
stop  a  moment.  The  phaeton  is  not  around  to  the  front 
yet.  Old  Peter  gets  slower  every  day.  There's  a  special 
message  in  your  father's  letter  which  you  have  not  been 
told.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  read  it  for  yourself." 

Ariadne  took  the  letter  eagerly.     The  sight  of  her 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  13 

father's  bold  clear  writing  gave  a  feeling  of  strength. 
It  was  almost  like  a  touch  of  his  dear  hand. 

''There,  not  so  high  up.  Begin  with  the  words: 
'And  say  to  my  dear  daughter-  '  directed  the  old 
lady,  pointing. 

Ariadne  hastily  lowered  her  eyes  to  the  line. 

"And  say  to  my  dear  daughter  that  she  is  still  to  be 
my  little  friend  and  comrade.  Nothing  is  to  be  taken 
from  her.  On  the  contrary,  I  believe  that  much  is  to 
be  added  to  her  young  life.  It  must  have  been  at  times 
very  dull  for  the  child  in  the  big  house  where  all  of  us 
were  so  much  her  seniors.  Donna  is  near  enough  my 
daughter's  age  to  become  a  real  companion.  She 
expresses  herself  as  most  anxious  to  win  Ariadne's  love. 
This  she  cannot  fail  to  do,  for  she  is  gentle,  clinging,  and 
affectionate.  Her  life  has  been  rather  a  lonely  and  un- 
happy one.  Her  devotion  to  me  is  touching,  and  I 
consider  it  a  great  privilege  to  be  able  to  make  up  to  her, 
in  some  measure,  for  the  unhappiness  in  her  early  life. 
With  regard  to  yourself,  my  dear  mother,  I  most  sin- 
cerely hope  that  you  will  consider  carefully  what  I  have 
urged  in  the  earlier  pages  of  this  long  letter,  and  will 
continue  to  make  your  home  with  us.  This  is  Donna's 
desire  as  much  as  it  is  my  own.  We  all  need  you. 

"With  deep  regret  for  the  distress  which  this  news  of 
mine  must  inevitably  bring,  and  renewed  assurances 
of  my  unaltered  love,  respect,  and  gratitude,  I  am,  as 
ever,  your  son 

"RANSOME  SKTPWITH." 

Ariadne  looked  up  with  shining  eyes.  "Oh,  isn't  that 
beautiful  ? "  she  said  with  fervor.  "It  makes  everything 
seem  right.  She  wants  us  all  to  love  her.  I  believe  I 
do,  already.  I  knew  she  must  be  kind  and  sweet." 


14  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Mrs.  Bannister  now  stood  erect.  She  watched  the 
changing  face  before  her  with  a  sort  of  tremulous  inten- 
sity. At  the  eager  words,  she  tried  to  smile,  an  effort 
that  in  some  way  appeared  unspeakably  pathetic. 

"It's  funny  about  father's  asking  you  not  to  leave 
Allan  Water,  though,"  mused  the  girl,  her  brightness 
fading  just  a  little.  "Of  course  you  wouldn't !  Why,  I 
couldn't  live  if  you  were  away  from  me,  Grandma.  I 
don't  believe  we  have  been  apart  a  whole  day  in  all  my 
life." 

Now  the  answering  smile  was  real,  but  despite  tender 
lips,  a  deeper  sadness  found  harbor  in  the  yearning  old 
eyes. 

"That  will  all  be  decided  in  good  time,  my  darling. 
There  are  things  you  cannot  understand  just  yet. 
Now  send  the  little  frown  away  "  —  she  leaned  over  to 
kiss  it  —  -  "and  run  up-stairs  for  your sunbonnet.  You 
will  need  it.  The  glare  is  strong  already.  The  horses 
are  at  the  door.  I  hear  old  Peter  sneezing.  He  always 
sneezes  when  I  make  him  hitch  them  up  early  in  the  day. 
He  doesn't  like  it." 

Ariadne,  laughing  once  more,  ran  out  into  the  hallway 
and  up  the  wide,  curving  stairs.  Her  feet  sounded  a 
flying  rhythm  of  youth  and  expectancy.  She  hummed 
little  snatches  of  her  favorite  ballad,  "Allan  Water." 

Old  Mrs.  Bannister  remained  motionless,  listening. 
Her  brave  smile  slowly  quivered  into  lines  of  desolating 
grief.  For  an  instant  she  put  both  hands  to  her  eyes  as 
if  to  shut  out  the  future.  Then,  turning  slowly,  she  went 
up  again  to  her  daughter's  picture,  peering  upward 
dimly.  She  held  up  her  arms  as  Ariadne,  an  hour  before, 
had  strained  her  own  outward  to  the  beauty  of  the  world. 
She  did  not  strive  for  speech.  Even  in  the  bruised  old 
heart  there  was  no  articulate  petition.  This  thing  had 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER  15 

fallen  upon  her  all  too  suddenly.  The  two  faced  each 
other  silently  —  immortal  spring  and  a  frail,  withering 
rose  of  a  generation  soon  to  pass.  From  both  their 
veins  had  come  this  new,  clean,  dew-sweet  blossom,  the 
young  girl,  Ariadne.  What  would  life  bring  to  her  ? 

Again  the  twinkling  feet,  the  lilt  upon  the  stair,  and  a 
blue  bonnet  thrust,  for  a  fluttering  instant,  through  the 
doorway  ! 

"I'm  starting,  Grandma.  Come  out  and  wave  good- 
by!" 


CHAPTER  II 

• 

ARIADNE  sat,  poised  like  a  bird  about  to  fly,  on  the 
faded  tan  cushions  on  the  front  seat.  The  over-fed 
horses,  Pitt  and  Fox,  their  glossy,  distended  haunches 
swaying  in  unison,  ambled  submissively  before  her. 

The  old  "double  phaeton"  which  they  drew,  of  a 
pattern  practically  obsolete  in  more  progressive  localities, 
was  still  considered,  in  Virginia,  to  be  the  one  seemly 
vehicle  which  a  gentlewoman  should  drive.  There  was 
really  no  necessity  for  the  girl  to  hold  the  worn  reins. 
The  horses  knew  quite  as  well  as  she  the  road  to  the 
country  station. 

Above  her  young  head,  from  which  the  sunbonnet  had 
already  slipped,  rose,  high  in  air,  a  thin,  flat  top  spread 
evenly  with  black  oilcloth,  and  surrounded  by  a  greenish 
fringe.  Perhaps  the  fringe  had  once  been  brown  — 
perhaps  yellow.  No  one  seemed  to  remember.  This 
cover,  held  aloft  at  the  corners  by  very  slender  iron  rods, 
gave  the  conveyance  a  humorous  resemblance  to  an 
attenuated  four-poster  bed. 

Ariadne,  serene  in  her  conviction  that  all  was  as  it 
should  be,  smiled  under  the  tattered  fringe  and  pictured 
the  coming  meeting  with  Cousin  Nellie  and  the  adorable, 
if  naughty.  Dick  Carter. 

As  with  all  other  material  surroundings  of  her  child- 
hood, she  accepted  and  admired  the  ancient  carry-all 
unquestioningly.  Mr.  Skipwith  had,  for  his  own  use, 
a  high  spring-buggy  and  its  thoroughbred  Kentucky 
mare.  Her  drives  in  this  winged  chariot,  taken  gener- 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER  17 

ally  under  protest  from  the  apprehensive  grandmother, 
were  as  different  from  the  present  decorous  perambula- 
tion as  is  the  flight  of  a  swallow  to  the  mincing  progress 
of  a  tame  pigeon. 

Besides  the  phaeton  and  the  buggy,  there  was  an  old, 
two-wheeled  farm-cart  that  tradition  said  had  once  been 
blue.  This  was  in  the  special  charge  of  Uncle  Peter, 
as  was  also  the  gray  mule,  Jericho,  which  dragged  it 
rumblingly  along  the  edges  of  the  pasture  or  down  to  the 
railway  freight-shed  to  haul  back  sundry  boxes. 

These  made  up  the  stabling  of  Allan  Water  and  were 
therefore  things  in  which  to  take  pride.  The  home- 
staying  child  had  become,  unconsciously  to  herself  and 
the  elders  who  loved  her,  keenly  possessive.  The 
humblest  accessory  of  this,  her  allotted  world,  had  the 
glamor  of  intimate  association.  Things  in  themselves 
transient,  viewed  in  the  retrospect  of  her  brief  but  vivid 
young  existence,  were  literally  "  apparelled  in  celestial 
light."  She  was  given  few  chances  for  comparison.  On 
the  rare  occasions  when  Grandma  had  taken  her  to 
spend  the  day  with  Cousin  Nellie  in  Culpeper,  she  had 
been  too  shy  to  make  friends  with  other  little  girls, 
brought  in,  arbitrarily,  from  neighboring  houses,  and 
preferred  to  remain  quietly  within  sight  and  hearing  of 
the  safe,  familiar  figure  of  her  grandmother,  finding 
sufficient  amusement  in  looking  out  from  various  win- 
dows. 

The  little  city  seemed  a  crowded,  gray,  forbidding 
place.  She  pitied  the  people  who  possessed  those  queer, 
tiny  flower  gardens,  and  such  ugly,  bare  back-yards 
held  in  by  high  board  fences.  Even  in  Cousin  Nellie's 
yard  there  was  only  a  single  tree,  a  disreputable,  warty, 
old  he-mulberry  —  the  kind  that  Uncle  Peter  chopped 


i8  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN  WATER 

down  scornfully,  remarking  that  they  were  po'  white 
trash  trees.  It  had  always  worried  the  child  that  rela- 
tives of  her  own  continued  to  permit  the  plebeian  growth. 
Not  for  the  world  would  she  have  admitted  to  Uncle 
Peter  the  fact  of  its  existence. 

Though  she  dearly  loved  Cousin  Nellie  and  the  tall, 
grave  "Cousin  Judge"  who  was  always  so  kind,  and 
though  each  of  the  excursions  was  begun  with  an  almost 
suffocating  sense  of  excitement,  returning  made  the 
true  glory  of  the  day.  The  first  sight  of  old  Peter 
waiting  at  the  station  thrilled  her  with  the  promise 
of  lost  joys  soon  to  be  regained.  And  then  the  drive 
homeward  through  wild,  sweet-smelling,  growing  things  ! 
No  place  was  here  for  a  dusty,  vagrant,  old  he-mulberry. 
And  then  the  first  glimpse  of  the  stately  entrance  — 
the  long,  curved  driveway  through  the  lawn  —  and  at 
last  —  at  last  —  the  tall  white  pillars  of  her  own  dear 
home,  with  Anguish  turning  handsprings  in  an  ecstasy 
of  welcome  ! 

The  child's  love  for  Allan  Water  was  becoming  a  sort 
of  passion.  When  Cousin  Nellie  came  to  them  here,  as 
she  would  to-day,  and  now  especially  that  there  was  small 
Dick  Carter,  Ariadne  felt  that  life  had  nothing  better  to 
give. 

She  had  passed  the  four  square  brick  and  cement  posts 
of  the  gateway,  and  soon,  by  a  sharp  turning  of  the  road, 
came  into  a  little  wood  set  thick  with  junipers.  The 
trees  had  been  judiciously  thinned  from  undergrowth, 
making  each  one  a  stately  green  pyramid.  Many  of  the 
long  lower  branches  skimmed  the  earth,  and  under  one  of 
these  a  darker  shadow  suddenly  moved.  It  was  Anguish, 
watching  for  a  chance  to  indulge  in  a  forbidden  and 
most  precious  pastime,  that  of  "catching  on  behind." 
She  pretended  not  to  see  him,  knowing  that  her  spoken 


ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER  19- 

permission,  instead  of  gratifying,  would  take  off  the  keen- 
est edge  of  joy.  When  they  got  home  she  would  have  to 
intercede  for  him  with  Mammy,  to  divert  the  "  wallop- 
ing" he  justly  deserved  ;  but  just  now  she  wanted  every- 
body to  be  happy,  even  Anguish  at  the  immoral  price  of 
a  stolen  ride. 

The  day  was  so  unspeakably  beautiful,  the  scent  of  the 
sun  on  the  dark  junipers  so  sweet,  the  whole  of  life,  with 
its  new  vistas  opening  before  her,  so  wonderful  and 
strange  ! 

The  woods  were  very  still.  On  the  sandy  road  the 
thud  of  the  horses'  feet  fell  as  upon  grass.  A  sparkle 
of  bird-notes,  flashing  from  one  tree-top  to  another, 
gleamed  in  the  silence  like  motes  in  a  sun-ray.  She 
heard  the  rush  of  the  little  negro's  body,  lithe  and  direct 
as  a  lizard's  predatory  dart.  She  felt  the  slight  impact, 
as  his  claw-like  hands  leaped  up  and  clutched  the  back 
of  the  farthest  seat.  Her  smile  grew  deeper.  The 
unconscious  horses  trotted  in  unbroken  unison.  Little 
by  little  the  tapping  of  small,  horny,  dangling  feet,  that 
touched  the  fleeing  road  at  intervals  fell  into  rhythm 
with  the  jogging  steeds  and  the  girl's  low,  crooning  song. 
Even  the  breathing  of  the  conscious  earth  became  a  part 
of  it.  Life  sang  in  the  girl's  heart. 

At  the  first  covered  bridge  the  spell  was  shattered. 
Ariadne's  song  stopped,  and  she  leaned  over  to  grasp  the 
reins  more  firmly.  The  sound  of  hoofs,  reechoed  from 
the  boards  beneath  them  and  the  flimsy,  wooden  arch 
above,  reduplicated  into  the  roar  of  a  cavalcade ;  while 
at  the  back  of  the  vehicle  hung  Anguish,  no  longer  pliant, 
but  gathered  up  into  a  knot  of  queer  brown  angles  that 
his  "foots"  wouldn't  git  splinters  drove  into  'em. 

The  bare  little  station  was  now  in  sight  It  stood  like 
a  Noah's  Ark  anchored  in  a  red-clay  sea.  All  about  it 


20  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER 

ran  the  deck  of  an  uncovered  platform,  and  near  one 
corner  was  planted  a  group  of  hitching  posts  furnished 
with  iron  rings.  Already  there  was  tethered  an  archaic 
buggy  with  a  concave  horse  to  match,  and  under  the 
nearest  tree,  a  giant  red-oak,  stood  several  unharnessed 
wagons. 

At  first  no  human  being  was  in  sight.  Then,  at  the 
sound  of  newly  arriving  wheels,  a  door  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  building  opened,  and  the  small  figure  of  a  man 
strolled  out,  shading  his  eyes  for  a  recognizing  squint 
and  then  moving  forward  more  briskly. 

This  was  the  station-master,  Jasper  Crane,  as  much  a 
part  of  the  unpretentious  edifice  as  the  roof  that  covered  it. 

"Good  mornin',  Miss  Airey,"  he  called,  stretching 
out  one  hand  for  the  reins. 

The  practiced  horses  curved  smoothly  and  came  to  a 
standstill  within  an  inch  of  the  platform's  edge.  Ariadne 
sprang  out,  delivering  the  reins,  as  it  were,  in  flight. 
Anguish  had  already  disappeared. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Crane,"  she  answered  brightly. 
"How  long  before  the  train  gets  in  ?" 

"Oughter  be  here  now,  but  o'  course  it  ain't !  Come 
to  meet  your  Paw  ?  " 

"No,  Cousin  Nellie  Henry  from  Culpeper.  She  is 
to  spend  the  day.  Dick  Carter  is  coming,  too." 

Mr.  Crane's  somewhat  serious  countenance  did  not 
reflect  her  pleasure. 

"You'll  have  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  or  he'll  be  under 
them  train  wheels  'fore  you  know  it.  I  never  seen  a  kid 
of  his  age  could  git  into  so  much  mischief.  Last  time  he 
sot  in  an  open  keg  o'  soft  rosin." 

"I  remember,"  Ariadne  laughed.  "We  had  an  awful 
time  pulling  him  out.  Cousin  Nellie  thought  one  of  his 
legs  might  be  left  behind.  But  he  is  so  cunning  !" 


ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN  WATER  21 

"I  don't  know  'bout  the  cunnin',"  said  Mr.  Crane 
gloomily.  "He  oughter  travel  in  a  dog-basket." 

The  girl's  chin  went  up  suddenly.  She  resented  the 
suggestion  that  a  kinsman  of  her  own,  however  youthful 
and  perhaps  deserving,  could  be  put  in  a  dog-basket, 
and  she  walked  swiftly  away,  until  the  platform  at  the 
further  side,  running  parallel  with  the  tracks,  had  been 
reached.  Two  long  whistles  sounded  from  Wolf  Ridge 
to  the  right. 

"She's  comin'  now,"  cried  Mr.  Crane.  "I'll  hang  out 
the  green  flag  just  to  make  sure  she'll  stop.  Them  en- 
gineers like  to  play  tricks  on  me."  He  hurried  into  the 
small  waiting-room,  leaving  the  door  wide.  A  small 
stove,  red  hot  with  smoldering  coke,  stood  in  the  center 
of  the  room.  Compressed  and  over-heated  air  rushed 
out  in  a  flood. 

The  station-master  and  his  flag  soon  followed.  He 
came  up  close  to  Ariadne,  unfurling  the  scrap  of  green  and 
gazing  down  anxiously  upon  it,  as  if  he  feared  the  color 
might  have  changed  in  the  night. 

" I  don't  believe  you  will  need  it,"  said  Ariadne.  "No 
train  would  keep  on  going  if  Cousin  Nellie  wanted  it  to 
stop." 

"Reckon  you're  right  there,  little  Miss,"  grinned  Mr. 
Crane.  "  I'll  jes'  hang  it  out  fer  looks,  though.  Seems 
sort  of  welcoming." 

As  he  stooped,  the  woods  again  fell  silent.  The  train 
with  all  its  herald  warnings  had  apparently  vanished 
from  the  earth. 

Mr.  Crane  shifted,  at  the  same  instant  one  baggy 
trouser  leg  and  a  huge  wad  of  chewing  tobacco. 
"Where's  your  Paw  now,  Miss  Airey  ?" 

"In  Charleston,"  she  answered,  just  a  little  coldly. 
Of  course  she  had  known  Mr.  Crane  from  childhood. 


22  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER 

As  long  as  she  could  remember,  he  had  petted  her,  saving 
up  pop-corn  balls  and  glass  pistols  of  variegated  and  un- 
datable candy  levied  from  train  peddlers,  to  give  her  pleas- 
ure. He  was  almost  as  much  a  part  of  her  life  as  the 
servants  up  at  Allan  Water,  and  yet  he  was  not  exactly 
the  person  with  whom,  now  that  she  had  grown  so  tall, 
she  could  discuss  her  family.  Unhampered  by  these 
delicate  distinctions,  the  little  man  went  on  in  an  easy, 
conversational  tone. 

"They  tell  me  your  Paw's  gettin'  real  rich,  Miss  Airey. 
Them  West  Virginia  lands  that  him  and  Jedge  Henry 
took  up  has  turned  out  reg'lar  gold-mines  fer  coal.  He's 
allays  flyin'  about  now,  gittin'  big  orders.  Jedge  Henry 
said  as  how  they  were  tryin'  fer  a  navy  contract  down  to 
Charleston.  Reckon  he's  at  it  now." 

Ariadne  turned  her  back  upon  him,  walked  to  the  very 
edge  of  the  platform,  and  peered  along  the  shining  curve 
of  rails. 

"The  train  surely  is  late  to-day,"  she  remarked  imper- 
sonally. 

Mr.  Crane  pursued  his  thoughts  aloud.  "Some  folks 
gits  all  the  luck,"  he  reflected  plaintively.  "Now  your 
Paw  and  Jedge  Henry  and  me  wuz  boys  together  —  jes' 
plain,  two-legged  boys.  We  fished  with  the  same  sort 
o'  grasshoppers  an'  stole  apples  from  the  selfsame  tree. 
An'  look  at  'em  now  !  Both  prosperous  men,  gettin' 
richer  every  minute,  wearin'  fine  clothes,  travelin'  in 
drawin'-rooms,  an',  fer  all  I  know,  orderin'  champagne  fer 
supper.  Look  at  me  !  —  stuck  in  this  one-horse  station 
like  a  wood-sawyer  in  pine-bark  —  watchin'  the  trains 
go  by  —  an'  punchin'  tickets.  That's  all  I  do,  punch 
tickets  !  An'  I  reckon  I'll  keep  on  punchin'  until  I 
punch  myself  into  my  grave." 

Ariadne  had  slowly  faced  him.     There  was  something 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER  23 

of  reproof  in  the  poise  of  her  young  body,  something 
repressed  and  even  a  trifle  hard  in  the  flower-like  face. 

"How  is  your  wife's  neuralgia?"  she  inquired  dis- 
tantly. She  might  have  been  old  Mrs.  Bannister  con- 
descending to  her  overseer.  Mr.  Crane  could  no  longer 
ignore  the  childish  hauteur ;  but  far  from  resenting,  it 
delighted  him.  This  slip  of  a  girl  was  already  showing 
herself  to  be  "real  quality."  He  chuckled  a  little  to 
himself  before  answering. 

"It's  doing  middlin'  well  jes'  now,  thank  you,  Miss 
Airey.  As  it  happens,  there  ain't  nothin'  special  she 
wants  to  drive  me  into  doin'. 

"All  wimen's  like  that,"  he  went  on  meditatively,  as 
Ariadne  vouchsafed  no  answering  remark.  "Some  uses 
tears  and  hystericks ;  some  takes  to  broomsticks  and 
the  biscuit-roller;  my  old  lady  works  neuralgy  to  the 
bone.  It's  all  fer  the  one  purpose.  They're  jes'  nach'- 
ally  set  on  gittin'  their  own  way,  an  —  they  gits  it." 
The  last  words  came  out  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

Ariadne  continued  to  remain  aloof  and  unresponsive. 

"It  won't  be  long  before  you're  startin'  along  that 
same  old  road  fer  yourself,  Miss  Airey,"  he  now  asserted. 
A  twinkle  which  she  disdained  to  notice  made  his  small 
eyes  dance.  "But  if  you  keep  on  gittin'  purtier  and 
purtier,  like  you're  doin'  now,  you  won't  need  any  o' 
them  rude  weepons.  It'll  be  a  case  of  Davy  Crockett. 
Jes'  pint  your  finger,  and  your  coon  will  drap." 

"There  is  the  train  at  last!"  cried  the  girl  in  great 
relief.  Mr.  Crane  had  never  before  been  quite  so 
personal,  so  inexcusably  familiar.  She  resented  it 
intensely.  And  yet  those  words  "If  you  keep  on  getting 
purtier  and  purtier"  had  a  strangely  alluring  sound. 
The  phrase  clung  and  would  not  be  brushed  away. 

Could  it  be  that  she  was  growing  to  resemble  the  lovely 


24  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER 

young  mother  ?  She  thought  of  the  picture  with  its  dark, 
smiling  eyes,  its  rose-tinted  cheeks,  its  masses  of  brown, 
curling  hair,  and  at  the  memory  shook  her  own  blond 
locks  in  protest.  No,  she  was  pale,  and  had  queer,  chang- 
ing eyes,  and  hair  of  no  particular  color  —  just  hair, 
as  Mr.  Crane  had  said  of  two-legged  boys.  There  was 
not  a  ripple  or  a  wave  to  it.  She  could  never  be  pretty. 
It  was  only  the  station-master's  way  of  teasing  her. 

The  train  was  almost  upon  them.  Ariadne's  eager 
look  swept  down  the  row  of  shut  glass  windows.  The 
engine,  with  its  deafening  bell,  rushed  past.  After  that 
came  a  baggage-car,  then  a  negro  coach,  followed  by  a 
"  smoker"  in  which  a  few  languid  male  figures  sprawled 
through  a  pent-up  mist.  After  that  was  the  ordinary, 
local  day-coach.  The  brakes  grated  harshly ;  the  train 
came  to  a  throbbing  halt. 

In  the  fourth  car  a  child  was  beating  frantically  upon 
a  window-pane  with  some  hard  object.  She  could  see 
him  jerked  violently  away.  Surely  that  was  Cousin 
Nellie  and  little  Dick  !  In  another  moment  a  negro 
porter  sprang  out,  setting  a  dingy,  carpet-covered  stool 
among  the  tracks,  and  Cousin  Nellie  emerged,  fair,  fat, 
and  smiling,  a  split  basket  on  one  arm  and  a  huge  bunch 
of  flowers  in  the  other. 

Behind  her  came  a  thin-legged  little  negress  of  about 
twelve  years  of  age,  whose  arms  strained  to  hold  a 
struggling  boy.  She  wore  no  hat,  and  her  head  was 
covered  closely  by  small,  projecting  knobs  of  black 
wool,  each  wound  tightly  with  a  bit  of  old  shoe-string, 
a  protection  much  needed  at  the  moment,  for  Master 
Dick  Carter  was  pounding  it  with  the  same  dark  clod 
that  had  nearly  shattered  the  car  window. 

They  had  scarcely  reached  the  ground  when  Mrs. 
Henry,  turning  to  the  porter,  commanded  : 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  25 

"Take  that  terrapin  out  of  Dick  Kyarter's  hand  and 
put  it  in  this  basket.  He'll  kill  the  wretched  animal ! 
Never  mind  his  yells,  Loovenia,  hold  him  tight  and 
climb  up  on  the  platform.  Hello,  Airey  !  Thank  you, 
porter.  I'd  give  you  a  quarter  if  I  could  open  my  purse. 
Never  mind,  I'll  leave  it  with  Mr.  Crane,  and  you  can 
get  it  on  your  return  trip.  Loovenia,  for  goodness'  sake, 
take  him  away  quick  !  He  bellows  like  a  bull.  Hush,  Dick 
Kyarter,  hush  !  No,  you  can't  have  the  turtle  again. 
You  are  a  bad  boy.  Show  him  the  train,  Loovenia." 

The  jointed  cars  moved  on,  and  in  the  puffing  steam  and 
shuddering  axles,  Dick's  shrieks  of  wrath  were  first 
drowned  and  then  soothed.  With  wide,  brilliant  eyes 
he  watched  the  fleeting  monster,  and  Loovenia's  timid 
adjuration,  "See  de  pritty  chu-chu,"  was  an  encourage- 
ment not  needed. 

"  Well,  thank  heaven  that  is  over  !"  said  Mrs.  Henry 
fervently,  as  she  adjusted  her  comfortable  bulk  to  the 
front  seat  beside  Ariadne  and  placed  the  basket  between 
their  feet.  "I  do  hope  that  bottle  of  peach  brandy 
won't  leak  all  over  us.  There  are  some  educators  for 
the  baby  in  there,  and  a  lot  of  extra  clothes.  I'll  declare, 
Ariadne,  that  child  would  have  to  be  dressed  from  the 
skin  out  ten  times  a  day  to  keep  him  clean.  He's  a 
perfect  terror!"  She  turned  round  to  gaze  upon  the 
"terror,"  who  was  now  in  Loovenia's  lap,  with  the  re- 
stored terrapin  in  his  chubby  fist,  a  picture  of  seraphic 
loveliness.  "Mother's  pet  lamb,"  she  murmured. 

Ariadne  turned,  too.  "Isn't  he  the  dearest  thing! 
Every  time  I  see  him,  Cousin  Nellie,  he  seems  to  get 
prettier  and  prettier." 

At  the  repetition  of  these  words  her  cheeks  grew  hot. 
Her  eyes  fell  with  sudden  shyness,  and  her  lips  trembled 
at  her  own  queer  feelings. 


26  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN   WATER 

Cousin  Nellie  was  staring  openly.  She  put  one  warm, 
ungloved  hand  beneath  the  girl's  chin  and  forced  the 
flushed  face  upward.  The  waves  of  color  came  faster. 
She  could  not  meet  the  kind,  inquisitive  eyes. 

"Look  at  me,  Ariadne.  What  on  earth  —  what  have 
you  been  doing  to  yourself,  anyway  ?  You  are  a  positive 
beauty,  —  yes,  you  are  ! " 

She  dropped  her  hand,  leaned  back,  and  laughed  for 
sheer  pleasure.  "Somehow  I  never  thought  of  your 
being  pretty,"  the  rich,  comfortable  voice  went  on. 
"Wouldn't  Cousin  Belinda  be  shocked  if  she  knew  I  was 
telling  you  so  ?  She  belongs  to  that  old-fashioned  school 
that  doesn't  believe  in  a  girl's  knowing  when  she  has  good 
looks.  But  I  do.  If  ever  I  have  a  daughter  as  pretty 
as  that  thing  on  the  back  seat,  I  shall  make  it  my  busi- 
ness to  let  her  know  it.  Why  shouldn't  she?  It  is 
nothing  that  she's  done,  only  a  gift  that  she  can  thank 
her  Maker  for.  It  gives  the  right  kind  of  a  girl  self- 
respect.  It  teaches  her  just  how  to  hold  her  head  and 
how  to  enter  a  room,  which  is  something  that  few  women 
learn  until  they  are  so  old  that  nobody  looks  at  them. 

"  You  know  what  I  believe?"  She  paused  dramati- 
cally. 

Ariadne  was  gazing  back  with  all  her  eyes.  She  had 
said  to  herself  that  they  were  colorless,  but  just  now 
tints  and  gleams  of  all  the  beautiful  eyes  in  the  world 
seemed  concentrated  in  them.  Mrs.  Henry  caught  her 
breath  a  little. 

"I  believe  you  are  going  to  be  a  ripping,  raving,  tear- 
ing young  beauty  !  And  I  want  you  to  remember  that 
it  was  your  Cousin  Nellie  who  first  told  you  so." 

Ariadne  sat  perfectly  still.  She  did  not  know  that  she 
held  the  reins  or  that  the  old  phaeton  was  moving. 
Something  warm  and  fragrant  caressed  her  young  limbs, 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  27 

passing  across  her  very  heart.  The  color  came  and 
went  in  her  throat,  her  temples,  her  cheeks,  never  resting 
in  one  spot  but  always  shifting  like  the  moving  tones  of 
an  opal. 

"She's  like  a  cameo  coming  to  life,"  thought  the  elder 
woman. 

Now  the  girl  tried  to  speak,  but  her  voice  was  so 
low  and  shaken  that  Mrs.  Henry  had  to  lean  down  to 
catch  it. 

"  Do  —  do  you  think  I  can  ever  look  like  my  mother  ?  " 
She  was  overwhelmed  by  her  own  temerity  in  daring  to 
approach  this  ultimate  standard  of  loveliness.  The 
answer  came  like  a  shock  of  cold  water. 

"  Goodness,  no  !  You're  not  her  type  at  all.  She  was 
a  pretty  little  thing,  of  course,  and  we  all  adored  her  — 
a  regular  brown-eyed,  dimpled,  Virginia  pet  —  but  you 
are  growing  up  into  the  real  thing,  a  tall,  willowy  - 

She  got  no  further.  "But  I  don't  want  to  be  tall. 
I'm  growing  too  fast  now  !" 

Mrs.  Henry  leaned  back  again  and  laughed  aloud.  It 
was  a  good  sound  to  hear.  If  one  could  imagine  the 
laugh  of  a  large,  ripe  peach,  the  result  would  be  much  like 
the  contralto  notes  that  abashed  Ariadne. 

"Now  isn't  that  the  funniest  thing!"  mused  Cousin 
Nellie.  "I've  never  yet  known  a  girl  who  wanted  to  be 
tall.  Now  I  never  was  what  you  would  call  a  pretty 
girl-" 

"Oh,  Cousin  Nellie,  I'm  sure—  "  Ariadne  broke  in  with 
genuine  distress. 

"No,  I  wasn't !  And  it  didn't  bother  me  a  bit.  My 
one  beauty  was  a  good  figure.  You  wouldn't  think,  to 
look  at  me  now,  that  I  was  ever  as  slim  as  you  are." 
She  chuckled  appreciatively.  "I  was,  though,  pretty 
nearly;  and  I  naturally  walked  well.  Judge  Henry 


28  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

thinks  I  do  yet.  But  instead  of  being  grateful  for  what 
I  had,  I  used  to  go  down  on  my  silly  young  knees  implor- 
ing the  Lord  to  let  me  shrink." 

"Gracious!  What's  that?"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
startled  turn  of  the  head.  A  small  brown  shadow  had 
darted  out  from  among  the  sassafras  bushes  and  now 
hung  inert,  dangling  from  the  rear. 

"It's  only  Anguish,"  laughed  Ariadne.  "That's  his 
chief  joy  in  life  —  stealing  rides." 

"He  won't  be  left  to  this  particular  joy  very  long  after 
Dick  Kyarter  catches  sight  of  him,"  remarked  Cousin 
Nellie. 

Even  as  she  spoke  Dick  Carter  was  writhing  like  a 
cutworm  in  his  efforts  to  stand  up.  One  pink,  baby 
hand  had  grasped  Anguish's  bird-like  claws,  the  tips  of 
which  just  showed  above  the  cushions. 

"Climb  over,  Anguish,  and  sit  on  the  other  side," 
ordered  Dick  Carter's  mother.  "You  can  help  Loovenia 
hold  him  in." 

"I  skeered  Mammy'll  wallop  me,  Miss  Nellie,"  said 
Anguish  in  a  high,  thin  voice  that  seemed  to  come  from 
far  away.  His  bat-like  face,  with  its  crescent  of  glit- 
tering teeth,  rose  gradually  into  view. 

Dick  Carter  flung  down  his  turtle  and  began  to  emit 
ear-piercing  shrieks  of  welcome,  at  the  same  time  strug- 
gling more  fiercely  to  gain  his  feet. 

" Get  in  at  once!"  repeated  Mrs.  Henry  in  a  tone  that 
made  the  little  darkie  vault.  "That  child  will  be  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  if  you  don't  make  haste.  Mammy 
shan't  wallop  you.  I've  brought  her  a  bundle  of  quilt 
pieces  that  will  make  her  so  happy  she  will  never  think 
of  it." 

The  speaker  paused,  smiling,  yet  a  little  anxious,  until 
she  could  see  the  absurd  little  group  adjusted  to  her 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER      29 

satisfaction.  Dick  Carter  had  precipitated  himself 
boldly  upon  the  newcomer  and  now  gazed  upward  to  the 
elfin  visage  with  the  adoring  eyes  of  a  Holy  Infant  on 
the  Madonna's  breast.  Loovenia,  resenting  his  defec- 
tion, sat  very  straight,  her  pig- tails  vibrant,  the  whites 
of  her  large  eyes  rolling  disapprobation ;  while  the  turtle 
upon  the  floor,  poking  out  a  battered  yet  hopeful  skull, 
scrambled  off  madly  to  the  farthest  corner. 

''He's  all  right  now,"  murmured  the  mother  fondly. 
Facing  about,  she  moved  her  shoulders  a  trifle  and  then 
took  up  conversation  on  a  new  key. 

"Grandma  all  right?" 

"Yeh —  yes'm,"  replied  Ariadne.  "She  hasn't  been 
sick  any." 

"Where  is  your  father  now  ?" 

"  In  Charleston."  Ariadne  leaned  forward  to  do  some- 
thing unnecessary  to  the  reins.  Mrs.  Henry  noticed  how 
the  embarrassed  color  flew  into  the  girl's  averted  cheek. 

"He's  been  going  there  a  good  deal  lately,"  Mrs.  Henry 
now  asserted.  Her  tone  had  not  implied  a  question,  but 
Ariadne,  growing  more  confused,  answered  hastily : 
"Yes'm.  It's  something  about  selling  coal  to  the  Navy, 
I  believe." 

Cousin  Nellie  straightened  the  locket  on  her  breast. 
It  contained  a  beautiful  miniature  of  Dick  Carter.  "He 
and  Judge  Henry  are  making  money  hand  over  fist 
out  of  those  mines,"  she  stated  pleasantly.  "It's  almost 
ridiculous  to  think  of  Virginians  getting  rich.  The  old 
generation  will  consider  us  vulgar.  They're  sure  to. 
But  I  reckon  we  can  stand  it."  She  laughed  softly. 
"Just  at  the  present  day  there's  nothing  quite  so  good 
to  have  as  money  —  not  even  family." 

"Oh,  Cousin  Nellie!"  cried  the  girl  in  a  shocked 
voice. 


3o  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN  WATER 

"It's  true  as  truth.  But  you  needn't  tell  your 
grandmother." 

The  brick  gate-posts  of  Allan  Water  showed  now 
through  the  clustered  junipers ;  in  a  few  moments  the 
white  pillars  of  the  house  would  appear. 

"Cousin  Nellie,"  began  the  girl,  almost  in  a  whisper, 
"did  you  ever  go  to  Charleston  ?" 

Mrs.  Henry's  shrewd  gray  eyes  gave  one  flicker  and 
were  instantly  controlled.  She  did  not  look  at  the  girl 
but  answered  carelessly:  "Why,  yes,  quite  often.  I 
have  visited  there  before  my  marriage,  and  since.  Why 
do  you  ask  ?  " 

"Did  you  ever  know  a  lady  named  Miss  May-rant? 
With  a  funny  sort  of  first  name,  like  Donna  ?  Yes,  that 
is  it  —  Miss  Donna  Ma>»-rant." 

Mrs.  Henry  all  at  once  seemed  to  settle  into  a  heavier 
mass.  "Donna  May-raw/,  it  is.  You  emphasize  the 
second  syllable.  Yes.  I  have  met  her.  So  it's  true  !" 

"What's  true?"  Ariadne  faltered  hypocritically. 

"That  your  father  is  going  to  marry  her." 

The  girl's  eyes  distended  with  excitement.  "Then  it 
isn't  a  secret.  Everybody  has  heard.  Oh,  please  tell 
me  something  about  her,  Cousin  Nellie,  everything  !  I 
am  just  crazy  to  hear." 

Mrs.  Henry  turned  a  little  slowly  to  the  eager  voice. 
"When  did  Ransome  write?" 

"Only  this  morning.  That  is,  Grandma  got  his  letter 
this  morning.  There  was  a  long  message  in  it  for  me  — 
such  a  beautiful  message  !" 

The  elder  woman's  eyes  were  quite  inscrutable.  She 
took  Ariadne's  free  hand  in  both  her  own. 

"I'll  read  it  to  you  when  we  get  home,"  the  girl  went 
on  brightly,  after  giving  the  warm,  kindly  hands  a 
returning  squeeze.  "At  first  it  seemed  so  awfully  queer 


ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER  31 

that  father  was  to  get  married.  Grandma  doesn't  like 
it  much.  I  didn't  know  that  old  people  like  father  could 
get  married.  But  she  isn't  old  !" 

"No?"  questioned  Cousin  Nellie  softly. 

"Not  very,"  admitted  Ariadne,  trying  to  be  truthful. 
"She's  in  her  early  thirties.  That's  not  very  old?" 
The  sweet  voice  paused  on  a  note  of  inquiry. 

"No,  that  isn't  old,"  replied  Cousin  Nellie,  and  then 
again  she  laughed,  but  this  time  it  was  the  laugh  of  a 
peach  on  a  lower  bough  that  had  not  felt  the  sun. 

"She's  pretty  and  good  and  sweet  and  —  and  — 
clinging.  Father  says  so,"  declared  the  girl  more  ve- 
hemently. There  seemed  a  sudden,  vague  necessity 
for  her  championship. 

"Well,  here  we  are!"  cried  Mrs.  Henry  briskly. 
"There  is  the  old  house,  bigger  and  whiter  than  ever. 
I'll  declare  it  seems  to  grow !  And  there's  Cousin 
Belinda  on  the  front  porch,  waiting.  Bless  her  sweet 
old  face  !"  The  last  words  choked  a  little. 

Ariadne  looked  around,  fearing  her  cousin  had  swal- 
lowed an  early  gnat.  But  that  energetic  lady  was  now 
waving  a  welcome. 

"Hello,  Cousin  Belinda.  We  are  all  here  and  alive. 
Didn't  I  pick  out  a  pretty  day  for  coming?" 

Uncle  Peter,  Old  Mammy  Susan,  and  the  maid, 
Mandy,  now  appeared,  having  come  humbly  around  the 
corner  of  the  house  from  the  servants'  quarters.  A 
wooden-bottomed  chair  was  brought  to  assist  the  pas- 
sengers in  their  descent. 

At  the  last  moment  Dick  Carter  remembered  his  ter- 
rapin. The  unhappy  reptile,  dragged  from  the  folds  of 
an  old  oilcloth  lap-robe  which  had  for  a  few  blissful 
moments  afforded  it  a  now-forfeited  haven  of  refuge, 
was  put  into  the  outstretched  hands  of  its  tormentor. 


32  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Dick  fondled  it  with  murmuring,  baby  lips,  turning  it 
as  a  squirrel  does  a  nut,  that  no  spot  should  go  uncaressed. 
Had  the  turtle  been  quick-witted,  here  was  its  chance 
for  a  hideous  revenge ;  but  before  either  the  opportunity 
or  Dick  Carter's  rose-like  cheek  could  be  seized,  Anguish, 
in  a  hoarse,  terrified  voice,  was  warning:  "Don't  you 
hole  dat  turkle  so  close  yo'  face,  Master  Dick.  Ef  it 
grabs  yo'  mouf,  hit  won't  turn  loose  till  it  thunders  !" 

"That's  right,  Anguish.  You're  a  good  little  boy. 
I'll  give  you  a  nickel  before  I  go  home.  Make  him  keep 
the  thing  away  from  his  face.  I  wish  Randy  Carr  had 
never  given  it  to  him.  Now  you  and  Loovenia  take  Dick 
to  the  kitchen,  so  we  can  have  some  peace,"  said  Mis. 
Henry,  all  in  one  breath. 

Relieved  from  the  precarious  delight  of  her  son's 
presence,  Cousin  Nellie  became  once  more  her  genial 
self.  Greetings  were  exchanged,  the  contents  of  the  big 
basket  apportioned,  the  lilacs  and  syringas,  after  their 
meed  of  praise  and  delicate  sniffing,  placed  in  water,  and 
the  two  elder  ladies,  followed  by  Ariadne,  made  their 
way  into  the  sitting-room. 

Cousin  Nellie  did  not  beat  about  the  bush.  Even 
before  looking  about  for  a  chair  she  announced  cheer- 
fully:  "Well !  I've  heard  the  news  and  I've  come  to 
talk  it  over!" 

Mrs.  Bannister  appeared  to  hesitate.  Her  own  method 
of  approach  would  have  been  more  gradual.  She  had 
not  asked  "dear  Nellie"  yet  how  she  stood  the  journey 
over  or  inquired  concerning  Judge  Henry's  always  excel- 
lent health.  These  little  formalities  were  dear  to  her 
secluded  life,  and  this  somewhat  ruthless  overleaping  of 
them  increased  the  agitation  she  was  already  striving 
to  suppress. 

"Yes  —  ah  —  will  you  take  this  armchair,  Nellie?" 


ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER  33 

she  hastily  suggested.  "Or  do  you  prefer  a  rocker? 
This,  as  you  know,  is  my  usual  nook,  here  in  the  chimney 
corner."  While  speaking  she  had  seated  herself  in  a 
high-backed,  carved  armchair  that  suited  her  as  a  medie- 
val niche  its  sculptured  image.  She  leaned  back,  care- 
ful that  the  straight  old  shoulders  should  touch. 

Mrs.  Bannister  had  been  reared  in  the  belief  that  no 
gentlewoman  should  relax  except  in  the  privacy  of  her 
chamber.  The  modern  method  of  slouching  and  throw- 
ing one's  self  about  was  most  reprehensible.  As  for 
putting  elbows  on  a  dining-table  !  One's  feet  would  be 
scarcely  less  vulgar. 

The  visitor,  less  than  usually  considerate  of  these 
old-world  prejudices,  now  drew  forward  the  only  rock- 
ing-chair, deposited  herself  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction, 
and  after  a  few  slight  lateral  movements  such  as  a  hen 
makes  in  her  final  adjustment  to  a  straw-lined  nest, 
looked  full  at  Cousin  Belinda  with  an  expression  which 
said:  "Now  for  it!" 

Ariadne,  not  daring  to  sit  down  till  she  was  bidden, 
hovered  near.  She  longed  desperately  to  remain  and 
was  in  corresponding  suspense  as  to  her  probable  banish- 
ment. There  were  so  many  topics  that  her  grandmother 
considered  her  "too  young  to  understand." 

Mrs.  Henry's  kindly,  shrewd  eyes  took  in  the  situa- 
tion. She  held  out  a  plump  hand.  "Come  here,  honey. 
Pull  up  that  cricket  and  sit  by  me,"  she  said. 

Ariadne  flew  to  obey.  At  Mrs.  Bannister's  perturbed 
glance,  Cousin  Nellie  added,  by  way  of  explanation : 
"The  child  is  naturally  dying  to  hear  about  her  new 
stepmother."  Then,  as  the  young  back  was  turned,  one 
of  those  looks  of  fundamental  intelligence  flashed  be- 
tween the  elder  women.  No  megaphone  could  have 
stated  more  clearly:  "I  won't  say  a  thing  before  her 


34  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

that  she  shouldn't  hear;  but  just  wait  till  we  are 
alone!" 

Ariadne  literally  flung  herself  on  the  stool.  One 
gingham-clad  elbow  was  on  Cousin  Nellie's  knee,  and 
the  delicate,  pink-shifting  face  showed  upturned  eyes 
that  were  dark  with  expectation. 

"To  begin  at  the  beginning,"  said  the  oracle  in  a  tone 
pregnant  with  things  to  come,  "you'll  remember, 
Cousin  Belinda,  that  when  I  went  to  the  Virginia  Female 
Institute  my  roommate  and  best  friend  was  Betty 
Ravenal  of  Charleston?" 

"Quite  distinctly.  You  brought  her  here  once  or 
twice.  A  very  prepossessing  young  person." 

"Of  course  that  was  years  and  years  ago,"  said  Cousin 
Nellie,  with  a  gesture  that  hinted  her  disdain  of  time. 
"Well,  she  married  much  earlier  than  I  did,  and  her 
children  began  coming  at  once.  She  didn't  have  to 
wait  nearly  ten  years,  as  I  waited  for  Dick  Kyarter, 
bless  him  !  I  do  hope  those  little  darkies  aren't  feeding 
him."  A  maternal  frown  gathered.  She  looked  un- 
certainly toward  the  door. 

"Susan  is  competent  to  see  that  no  harm  comes  to  the 
child,"  Mrs.  Bannister  assured  her.  There  was  a  touch 
of  impatience  in  the  gentle  voice.  The  narrative  must 
not  swerve,  just  then. 

"Betty's  husband,  who  was  also  her  cousin,  wasn't 
very  well  off,"  the  speaker  continued  equably.  "She 
was  tied  pretty  close  to  home,  so  I  did  most  of  the  visit- 
ing. I've  been  there  often  —  the  last  time  just  about  a 
year  ago." 

Mrs.  Bannister  leaned  forward.  "  And  on  these  visits 
-did  you?" 

She  paused.  Ariadne  gave  an  excited  gasp.  The 
butter  was  beginning  to  come. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  35 

"I  did!"  announced  Cousin  Nellie  dramatically. 
"She  was  never  a  really  intimate  friend  of  Betty's, 
though  there  is  some  distant  relationship  between  them ; 
but  naturally,  in  a  little  place  like  Charleston,  everybody 
knows  everybody  else.  I  saw  Miss  Mayrant  often,  and 
I  heard  —  well,  I  heard  her  spoken  of." 

"What  exactly  does  she  look  like  ?"  breathed  Ariadne. 

"Let  me  see,"  considered  the  narrator,  screwing  up 
her  eyes  as  if  for  inward  vision.  "She's  rather  small. 
Not  homely  —  in  fact,  I  suppose  she's  what  you'd  call 
sweet-looking." 

"Of  course,"  murmured  Ariadne,  with  a  smile. 

"And  she  is  blond  —  yes,  very  blond."  Another 
pause  in  which  Mrs.  Bannister  swiftly  sought  her  cousin's 
eyes.  Again  passed  the  look  of  cryptic  understanding. 
The  old  lady  bristled. 

"But  did  you  ever  hear  her  speak?  Did  you  talk 
to  her,  and  did  she  have  any  idea  you  were  kin  to  us  ?" 
the  girl  began  in  a  torrent  of  unsatisfied  questioning, 
when  suddenly  from  the  kitchen  wing  came  ominous 
sounds,  and  in  another  instant  Anguish,  his  face  for  once 
answering  to  his  name,  had  burst  into  the  room. 

"O-o-ole  Miss,"  he  stammered.  "Mars  Dick's  done 
drapped  his  turkle  in  de  churn  !" 

"Great  Heavens !"  ejaculated  the  mother,  getting  to 
her  feet. 

"  An-an'  fo'  nobody  could  ketch  him,  he'd  done  popped 
in  atter  it.  De  buttermilk  is  tricklin'  off'n  him,  an'- 

But  no  further  words  were  needed.  In  at  the  open 
door  staggered  baby  Dick,  his  screams  diluted  by  the 
buttermilk,  his  curly  head  and  clean  linen  suit  plastered 
as  with  a  surface  of  greasy  calcimine. 

Loovenia,  her  orbs  revolving  with  terror,  came  close  be- 
hind, making  vague  and  futile  clutches  toward  her  charge. 


36  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Oh,  Dick  Kyarter,  Dick  Kyarter,  you'll  drive  me 
insane  yet !"  moaned  Mrs.  Henry.  At  the  sound  of  her 
voice,  Dick  made  a  lunge  in  that  direction.  Ariadne 
was  there  in  time.  "Don't  touch  him,  Cousin  Nellie. 
You've  got  on  such  a  pretty  new  dress.  I'll  take  him 
up-stairs.  He  will  go  with  me.  Won't  you  come  with 
Cousin  Airey,  Dicky?"  She  knelt,  holding  out  coaxing 
arms. 

Dick  Carter  nodded  and  sent  an  approving  glance 
through  the  buttermilk.  He  liked  the  taste,  and  had 
now  come  to  a  standstill,  and  was  occupied  in  holding 
out  his  tongue,  as  clean  and  red  as  that  of  a  young 
puppy,  to  catch  the  buttermilk  that  rolled  slowly  down- 
ward from  his  hair,  his  chubby  cheeks,  and  his  nose. 

"All  right,"  said  Mrs.  Henry.  "But  Loovenia  had 
better  carry  him  up  for  you.  She's  already  full  of 
buttermilk.  Anguish,  go  right  away  and  fetch  a  basin 
of  warm  water  and  soda  to  wipe  up  these  puddles. 
They  won't  stain  your  floor,  Cousin  Belinda,"  she  assured 
the  old  lady,  who  had  remained  rigid  and  speechless 
during  this  tempestuous  scene.  "I've  had  to  learn  the 
way  to  remove  every  spilled  liquid  on  earth,  from  ink 
and  shoe-polish  down  to  smashed  caterpillars." 

When  the  spots  had  been  successfully  taken  off  and 
privacy  restored,  Mrs.  Henry,  drawing  her  chair  nearer 
and  speaking  in  a  lower  and  more  hurried  tone,  said : 
"Wasn't  it  fortunate  that  Ariadne  offered  to  take  Dick 
Kyarter?  I  didn't  see  how  we  were  going  to  get  rid 
of  the  dear  child  without  hurting  her  feelings,  and 
I  simply  had  to  get  you  alone.  I've  only  begun  to 
tell  you  !  Oh,  Cousin  Belinda,  it's  awful  —  perfectly 
awful!" 

"I  felt  it,  my  dear.  I  knew  it,"  quavered  the  elder 
lady. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  37 

"She's  a  sentimental,  die-away  old  maid,  who  has 
been  on  a  man-hunt  all  tyer  life.  Oh,  I  know  my  words 
are  indelicate  !"  The  interpolation  was  occasioned  by  a 
strangled  exclamation  from  her  listener.  "But  I  can't 
think  of  any  other  way  to  express  it.  She  considers 
herself  a  poetess,  and  gets  little  namby-pamby  dabs 
about  her  loneliness  and  when-will-the-fairy-Prince- 
come-riding-by  ?  printed  occasionally  in  the  upper, 
right-hand  corner  of  the  Charleston  Times.  Betty  sent 
me  one  a  few  days  ago." 

"Oh,  not  over  her  own  name  —  not  over  her  own 
name  !"  moaned  Mrs.  Bannister. 

"I  believe  she  does  use  a  fancy  pen-name  —  Chris- 
tabel,  or  Xenobia,  or  Casabianca,  or  something  of  the 
sort,"  soothed  Cousin  Nellie.  Instead  of  the  last  name 
she  had  meant  to  say  Cassandra,  but  this  was  no  time 
for  classical  niceties. 

"But  her  position  in  life  —  her  —  her  —  connec- 
tions?" These  to  the  aristocratic  old  questioner  were 
even  more  important  than  the  fact  of  keeping  her  name 
out  of  print. 

"She  doesn't  seem  to  have  any  close  ones,  but  drifts 
around  in  spots,  living  on  near  relatives." 

"  My  dear,  that  sounds  like  a  pariah  !"  protested  the 
other. 

Mrs.  Henry  shook  her  head.  "I  know.  And  even 
then  she  quarrels  with  them.  Betty  says  so.  It  is  only 
because  they  are  so  thankful  to  get  rid  of  her  that  George 
Ravenal  and  his  wife  have  her  there  now,  and  are  letting 
her  be  married  from  their  house.  Kind-hearted  Betty 
put  her  up  for  a  while,  but  when  she  found  that  the  silly 
creature  burned  joss-sticks  before  a  portrait  of  Lord 
Byron  and  confessed  openly  that  she  had  read  'Don 
Jew-an'  till  she  could  say  it  backwards,  Betty  felt  that 


38  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER 

it  was  not  right  to  her  growing  girls  to  keep  such  a  crea- 
ture in  the  house." 

"Byron !  Don  Jew-an,"  gasped  the  grandmother. 
"Oh,  my  poor  little  Ariadne — -my  little  innocent, 
unspotted  Ariadne,"  she  wailed,  and  began  to  fumble  in 
her  beaded  reticule  for  a  handkerchief. 

Mrs.  Henry's  bright  face  clouded.  "Yes,  that  is  the 
very  worst  of  it,"  she  sighed.  "To  have  a  lovely,  just- 
expanding  girl  like  Airey  come  under  such  an  unwhole- 
some influence.  What  I  am  hoping  for  is  that  the 
middle-aged  love-birds  will  be  so  engrossed  with  each 
other  they  will  let  Ariadne  live  with  us.  You  are  coming 
to  Culpeper  at  once,  Cousin  Belinda.  That's  under- 
stood, of  course." 

Mrs.  Bannister  touched  one  eye  and  then  the  other 
with  the  handkerchief. 

"Thank  you  tenderly,  dear  child.  It  is  very  com- 
forting to  know  that  I  shall  not  be  entirely  friendless. 
But,  as  yet,  I  have  given  little  thought  to  my  future. 
Perhaps  I  shall  decide  to  reopen  my  own  home,  'Little 
Barton,'  taking  Susan  and  Peter  with  me.  They  are 
Bannister,  not  Skipwith  servants,  as  you  know." 

"  Well,  there's  no  need  of  worrying  about  that  at 
present.  Such  things  work  themselves  out,  and  you 
can't  unscramble  an  egg,"  declared  Mrs.  Henry.  "Now, 
if  you  don't  mind,  I  would  like  to  hear  exactly  what 
Ransome  said  of  his  coming  marriage." 

"The  letter  is  here  in  my  bag,"  said  the  elder  lady, 
again  making  the  black  beads  wink  and  sparkle.  "You 
had  better  read  it  all." 

Mrs.  Henry  skimmed  rapidly  through  the  pages.  A 
look,  at  first  critical  and  then  almost  ironic,  grew  in  her 
pleasant,  down-bent  face. 

"To  be  married  immediately — umph — umph — !     A 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER  39 

wedding  journey  to  New  York.  That's  to  give  Ransome 
a  chance  to  buy  her  trousseau.  Just  like  her  !  Sweet 
-  clinging  —  wants  Ariadne  to  love  her  —  mush  and 
molasses!"  cried  the  exasperated  reader,  flinging  the 
pages  down.  "  She's  a  bigger  fool  than  I  thought, 
Cousin  Belinda,  and  that  says  a  good  deal ! " 

As  Mrs.  Bannister's  startled  eyes  remained  unen- 
lightened, the  other  explained,  more  lucidly:  "I  mean, 
in  the  way  she  is  managing  things.  The  engagement 
should  have  been  announced  a  month  before,  at  least. 
Some  sort  of  invitations  should  have  been  printed.  You 
see,  I  know  Donna  Mayrant !  As  for  not  insisting  on 
Ariadne's  being  present  at  the  wedding,  that  is  so  stupid 
that  it's  criminal.  They  should  have  tried  to  get  you 
there,  too." 

"Me  !"  echoed  the  old  lady.  Her  mild  eyes  emitted 
sparks.  The  slender  figure  grew  so  erect  that  it  might 
have  crackled.  Her  chest  seemed  to  expand.  "  Never  ! " 

Mrs.  Henry  laughed.  "  Well,  none  of  us  have  been 
urged,"  she  said  good-naturedly,  "which  is  as  much  of  a 
relief  to  us  as  it  is  a  fatal  mistake  for  them.  She's  evi- 
dently dished  poor  Ransome  to  a  turn  —  fried  on  both 
sides  with  parsley  around  the  edges." 

"I  don't  see  that  it  is  exactly  an  occasion  for  levity,'r 
remarked  Mrs.  Bannister,  who  did  not  like  being  laughed 
at.  But  in  a  moment  more  her  tone  had  altered. 

"How  could  such  a  woman  attract  my  son-in-law?" 
she  asked  dejectedly.  "A  man  so  full  of  tenderness  and 
chivalry,  so  utterly  devoted  to  his  child  !  As  for  me, 
no  true  son  could  have  been  dearer  or  more  considerate. 
He  worshiped  his  young  wife,  too.  With  his  head 
bowed  upon  my  breast  he  told  me  that  he  never  would 
look  at  another  woman."  The  scrap  of  handkerchief 
came  into  renewed  service. 


40  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER 

"Yes,  and  he  was  on  your  breast  while  he  still  thought 
himself  broken-hearted.  Also  he  was  just  a  little  over 
thirty.  Ransome  has  reached  the  age  where  most  men 
make  fools  of  themselves.  I  am  keeping  an  extra  eye 
on  Judge  Henry,  you  can  bet.  I  never  expect  to  draw 
a  really  easy  breath  until  he  is  well  over  sixty." 

Ignoring  the  shocked  and  stammering  remonstrance 
of  her  listener,  Mrs.  Henry  went  on  in  cool,  practical 
tones :  "As  for  his  tenderness,  and  sentiment,  and  chiv- 
alry —  that's  just  what's  done  it.  Donna  Mayrant 
has  worked  her  forlorn  condition  to  good  effect  at  last. 
A  more  worldly,  ordinary  man  would  have  seen  her  for 
just  what  she  is  —  a  smirking,  painted,  little  humbug  !" 

Mrs.  Bannister  gave  a  gesture  and  a  low  cry  of  protest. 

"Stop,  Helen!  You  surely  did  not  say  painted ! 
Ransome  would  never  touch  a  painted  woman  ! " 

"Not  if  he  knew  it,"  said  the  other  coolly.  "But  he 
doesn't.  That's  just  Donna's  point.  In  these  days 
of  white  veils  and  pink-shaded  lamps,  any  woman  could 
have  fooled  Ransome  Skipwith.  She's  made  him  believe 
that  she's  in  the  early  thirties." 

"Apparently  she  has.  Is  the  deceitful  minx  much 
over?" 

"Thirty!"  sniffed  Mrs.  Henry,  with  scorn.  "That 
woman  will  never  see  forty  this  side  of  the  Happy 
Land." 

At  this  the  old  lady  leaned  back,  speechless.  The 
heaped-up  revelations  smothered  her  power  of  thought. 
Mrs.  Henry  rocked  back  and  forth  in  the  silence,  then 
she  lifted  her  head.  Sounds  of  young  feet  scurrying 
up-stairs  reminded  her  of  things  yet  to  be  said.  She  sat 
upright  and  shook  out  her  feathers. 

"I  believe  that's  all,"  she  remarked.  "You  know 
as  much  as  I  do  now.  The  prospect  isn't  cheerful,  but 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  41 

I  think  we  both  agree  that  Ariadne  must  not  be  preju- 
diced in  advance.  She'll  soon  see  through  the  creature. 
In  the  meantime  there  are  some  practical  things  to  be 
done.  The  honeymoon  couple  won't  be  here  for  a 
couple  of  weeks  at  the  earliest.  You're  obliged  to  do  a 
little  fixing  up  for  them  —  new  hangings  in  the  guest- 
chamber,  perhaps  some  new  table  linen,  and  most 
important  of  all,  new  clothes  for  Ariadne." 

Mrs.  Bannister  looked  up  wanly. 

"I've  brought  the  latest  New  York  Kirby  catalogue 
along,"  asserted  Cousin  Nellie.  She  now  began  feeling 
about  in  a  large,  blue  leather  shopping-bag,  at  the  same 
time  hitching  her  chair,  by  inches,  up  to  the  elder  lady's 
side.  "The  fashions  this  year  are  perfectly  lovely,  espe- 
cially for  young  girls.  Have  you  noticed  how  pretty 
Ariadne  is  growing  ?  " 

"Sh-sh-sh  !"  warned  Mrs.  Bannister,  coming  back  to 
life  and  casting  an  apprehensive  look  at  the  door.  "She 
might  hear  you." 

"What  harm  if  she  does?" 

"My  dear !  Would  you  brush  away  the  charm,  the 
modesty  that  is  the  bloom  of  dawning  womanhood? 
Ariadne  must  never  suspect  — 

"That  she's  good  enough  to  eat,  this  minute  ? "  finished 
the  other,  laughing.  "You  don't  mind  hearing  it,  I  see. 
You  are  beaming  like  a  row  of  hollyhocks  right  now. 
Look  at  this  little  blue  frock  on  page  eleven.  I  have 
already  marked  it." 

Mrs.  Bannister  put  on  her  spectacles  and  bent  over 
eagerly. 

"Can't  you  just  see  Ariadne  in  it?  And  this  wide 
leghorn  with  the  wreath  of  cornflowers  —  and  this  little 
white  serge  Norfolk  jacket  trimmed  in  blue  - 

"Yes,  they  are  charming  —  very  sweet  and  girlish," 


42  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

said  the  grandmother,  flushing  with  increased  pleasure. 
Then  her  face  fell.  "But,  Nellie,  my  dear,  what  prices  ! 
The  hat  alone  is  eighteen  dollars.  Eighteen  !  Why,  in 
my  day  - 

"But  it  isn't  your  day  now,  Cousin  Belinda.  It  is 
Ariadne's  day.  Her  father  has  the  money,  and  I  don't 
propose  to  have  him  sticking  Paris  hats  all  over  Donna 
Mayrant's  peroxided  curls,  while  his  only  daughter 
wears  sunbonnets  !" 

"Let  us  look  at  some  of  the  other  dresses,  the  more 
expensive  ones,"  cried  the  old  lady  feverishly.  "And 
I  am  sure  the  child  needs  several  hats  —  several !" 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  wedding  which  was  to  mean  so  much  in  Ariadne's 
life  had  taken  place. 

As  was  its  courtly  wont,  the  Charleston  Times  gave 
an  impassioned,  if  verbose,  account  of  the  nuptial  scene, 
describing  it  as  a  "quiet  hour  of  sweet  solemnity,  in 
which  the  stalwart  groom  and  dainty,  blushing  bride 
plighted  their  troth  each  to  each." 

Mrs.  Henry  sent  two  copies  of  the  newspaper  to  Allan 
Water.  The  annotations  in  her  vigorous  handwriting, 
scribbled  along  the  edge  of  one,  were  for  Mrs.  Bannister's 
eyes  alone. 

Existence  in  the  old  Virginia  home  just  now  was,  in 
spite  of  threatened  changes,  a  busy  and  enjoyable 
affair.  Mr.  Skipwith  had  urged,  by  letter,  that  no 
expense  be  spared  in  the  new  decorations.  Boxes 
arriving  constantly  from  New  York  contained  not  only 
charming  clothes  for  Ariadne,  but  handsome  new  window 
hangings,  bureau  scarfs,  napery,  rich  rugs,  and  ornaments 
of  a  kind  that  never  appeared  in  the  shopping  haunts 
of  Culpeper. 

Ariadne,  during  these  days  of  preparation,  gained 
vivacity  and  color.  To  the  old  grandmother's  yearning 
eyes  she  seemed  to  grow  hourly  more  beautiful. 

Now,  from  the  blissful  couple  in  New  York,  letters 
began  to  arrive,  and  one  on  lavender-tinted  paper  scented 
with  the  same  perfume  was  directed  to  Miss  Ariadne 
Skipwith.  Her  young  eyes  devoured  each  comma. 
She  had  never  read  such  tender,  endearing  words  before, 


44  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

nor  had  she  been  directly  appealed  to  for  her  "love." 
In  fact  this  thrilling  word,  together  with  that  other  one 
of  "marriage,"  to  which  she  had  so  recently  become 
accustomed,  had  been  little  used  in  the  old-fashioned 
household. 

She  had  opened  and  read  this  letter  in  her  grand- 
mother's presence.  As  it  was  finished,  she  instinctively 
held  it  out.  Mrs.  Bannister  had  been  watching  the 
girl's  flushed,  tender  face.  At  the  sudden  offering  of 
the  fragrant  note,  the  old  lady's  hand  went  forward  a 
few  hesitating  inches,  and  was  then,  more  decisively, 
drawn  away. 

"  Thank  you,  dear,"  she  said  in  a  hurried  and  embar- 
rassed tone.  "But  I  feel  that  I  should  not  read  Mrs. 
Skipwith's  letter  unless  she  has  specially  requested  it." 

Ariadne's  eyes  fell.  Mrs.  Skipwith  had  not  requested 
it,  and  after  a  few  moments  of  silence,  which  both  felt 
to  be  prophetic  of  deeper  misunderstandings,  the  girl 
slowly  refolded  her  precious  missive  and  carried  it  off 
to  her  room  to  be  hidden  away  with  the  clipping  from  the 
Charleston  Times. 

Left  alone,  the  grandmother  pressed  her  frail  hands 
against  her  breast.  It  perhaps  had  not  been  a  wise  or  a 
politic  move  to  repulse  the  girl's  confidence,  and  yet  she 
could  scarcely  have  acted  differently.  Later  on  Ariadne 
would  understand  for  herself  why  there  could  never  be 
anything  in  common  between  her  grandmother  and  the 
new  mistress  of  Allan  Water.  For  the  present  she  must 
bear  the  child's  hurt  eyes  and  sweet  face  of  reproachful 
incredulity. 

Later  in  the  day  Mrs.  Bannister  announced  her  final 
decision  to  leave  for  Culpeper  the  morning  after  Mr. 
Skipwith's  arrival.  Ariadne  now  acquiesced  in  silence. 
Her  protestations  and  childish  arguments  were  exhausted. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER  45 

Even  Cousin  Nellie,  who  came  as  often  as  possible 
to  assist  with  the  refurnishing  of  the  house,  assured  the 
girl  that,  under  the  circumstances,  it  was  the  only  digni- 
fied move  for  the  old  lady. 

"Your  father  insists  upon  your  remaining  here,"  the 
kindly  soul  added.  "That  is  natural,  too.  But 
Grandma  and  I  hope  to  steal  you  often  for  little  visits." 

"All  the  world  is  changing,"  thought  the  child.  "I 
suppose  this  is  only  part  of  it." 

At  last  came  the  exciting  telegram:  "We  arrive  to- 
morrow by  the  five- thirty  from  New  York." 

Ariadne  counted  the  hours  out  on  her  fingers.  She 
could  scarcely  sleep  the  night  before.  Next  morning 
at  dawn,  she  woke,  and  moving  softly  with  bare  feet  to 
the  window,  pushed  the  green  shutters  gradually  apart. 
A  longing  so  keen  that  it  was  almost  a  prayer  came  to 
her  lips  and  heart.  The  day  must  be  beautiful !  The 
sun  must  shine  for  an  event  so  wonderful ! 

As  the  clear  pink  light  streamed  full  upon  her,  she 
gave  a  little  cry  of  rapture.  The  whole  east  was  an 
opening  tea-rose.  The  earth  smelled  of  it.  High  over- 
head small,  amber-colored  clouds  like  moths  dissolved 
in  golden  light.  The  sun  behind  the  farther  hills  waved 
plumes  of  radiant  triumph. 

Slowly  her  eyes  came  back  to  more  familiar  things. 
The  great  trees  on  the  lawn  had  actually  grown  taller. 
Surely  the  red-oak  never  held  its  head  so  high  before? 
The  wide  expanse  of  turf,  cut  by  the  long  white  driveway, 
showed  sparkling  Stardust  instead  of  ordinary  dew,  and 
toward  the  valley  there  were  slow  shifting  scarfs  of 
night  mists,  gray  gossamer  tinged  with  pink,  moving 
among  the  dark,  sharp  tips  of  cedars. 

It  was  hard  to  wait  there  for  the  breakfast  bell,  but 
she  did  so,  busying  herself  with  putting  the  room  to 


46  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

rights,  and  pausing  now  and  again  to  look  at  her  father's 
photograph  or  to  read,  once  more,  the  letters  that  had 
come  to  her  from  Donna. 

She  went  down-stairs  quietly,  greeting  the  old  lady 
with  the  usual  kiss  and  the  inquiry : 

"  Did  you  sleep  well,  grandma?" 

Something  sweet  and  sensitive  in  the  young  heart 
told  her  that  on  this,  more  than  on  all  other  days  her 
grandmother  would  wish  the  quiet  routine  of  the  house 
preserved. 

The  morning  meal  passed  without  incident.  Mrs. 
Bannister  made  no  reference  to  the  approaching  arrival, 
though  each  knew  that  the  other  thought  of  little  else. 

Immediately  after,  Ariadne  went  into  the  garden  for 
an  armful  of  pink  roses.  These  she  had  begun  to  arrange 
in  the  bowl  under  her  mother's  portrait  when  Mrs. 
Bannister,  entering  by  another  door  with  a  basket  of 
white  lilacs,  interrupted  her,  saying  gently : 

"  Yours  are  for  the  bridal  chamber,  Ariadne.  We 
need  white  flowers  here." 

The  girl  took  up  the  rejected  blossoms  and  left  the 
room,  her  face  downcast.  Everything  she  did  these 
days  seemed  to  give  her  grandmother  fresh  pain.  Her 
childish  thought  had  been  to  let  the  young  mother  share 
in  the  day's  brightness,  but  grandma's  tone  had  made 
the  desire  seem  disloyal,  even  indelicate. 

After  this  the  hours  grew  more  and  more  interminable. 
No  matter  how  carefully  she  trod,  there  were  always 
nettles  in  the  path. 

Small  frictions  came  unexpectedly,  impatient  words 
were  spoken,  and  for  alternative  there  were  dreary  in- 
tervals of  silence  that  apparently  were  to  have  no 
end. 

Old  Peter  and  Mammy  could  be  heard  quarreling  in 


ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER  47 

the  kitchen.  Mandy  went  across  the  back-yard,  tossing 
her  head ;  and  muffled  shrieks  from  Anguish  told  of  a 
"  wallopin' "  which,  for  once,  he  probably  did  not  deserve. 

"I  believe  the  horses  are  biting  each  other  out  in  the 
stables,"  thought  the  girl  almost  in  despair,  wandering 
from  room  to  room.  As  with  her  granddaughter,  old 
Mrs.  Bannister  could  find  no  place  of  rest ;  she  who  was 
usually  so  placid  did  not  remain  seated  for  five  minutes 
at  a  time.  Even  her  Bible  failed  to  comfort  her. 

But,  in  their  halting  fashion,  the  afternoon  hours 
finally  dragged  through.  At  last  it  was  time  to  start. 

Ariadne  was  to  wear  the  blue  linen  frock  chosen  from 
the  New  York  catalogue,  and  with  it  the  wide  hat 
trimmed  with  cornflowers.  In  the  white  gloves  de- 
manded by  this  elaborate  costume,  she  could  not  afford 
to  drive,  so  it  became  the  proud  duty  of  Anguish  him- 
self, resplendent  in  an  entire  new  outfit,  to  "take  Miss 
Airey  to  meet  her  Paw  and  de  lady." 

Uncle  Peter  had  already  rumbled  off  in  the  blue  cart, 
which  was  to  convey  the  bride's  luggage. 

"  She's  sure  to  have  a  dozen  trunks  —  all  new,"  Cousin 
Nellie  had  prophesied,  with  meaning. 

Of  the  two  young  creatures  in  the  phaeton  it  would 
be  difficult  to  say  which  one  felt  the  greater  relief.  There 
was  no  joy  visible  at  first  in  either  face.  The  gloom  of 
the  day,  compelled  as  it  were  by  their  elders,  still  clung 
about  them.  Ariadne,  when  she  had  passed  the  gate, 
drew  a  long  breath  that  sounded  like  thanksgiving.  The 
little  darkey  rolled  one  eye  toward  her,  then  gave  the 
reins  a  vicious  flap. 

Ariadne  for  the  first  time  glanced  at  him.  There 
was  something  comic  and  yet  pathetic  in  the  expression 
of  his  small  visage.  It  always  reminded  her,  hi  its 
rare  intervals  of  repose,  of  a  pickled  walnut.  To-day 


48  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER 

the  vinegar  was  very,  very  sour.  Evidently  old 
Mammy's  hand  had  been  unusually  heavy. 

" That's  a  splendid  new  suit  of  clothes,  Anguish,"  she 
remarked,  with  the  kindly  impulse  of  cheering  him  up. 

"Yassum,"  was  the  laconic  reply.  His  nether  lip 
protruded  still  another  inch. 

"Was  Mammy  very  cross  to-day?"  asked  the  girl 
sympathetically. 

Anguish  rolled  both  eyes  this  time. 

"Wuz  she  cross?"  he  echoed  bitterly.  "Miss  Airey 
—  Mammy's  most  done  skuht  me  —  dat's  what  she's 
done." 

The  girl  suppressed  an  exclamation  of  condolence. 
It  would  not  do  for  the  young  mistress  to  encourage 
rebellion  against  authority,  yet  she  understood  only 
too  well.  In  a  more  intimate  and  subtle  way  she  also 
had  been  pretty  nearly  "skunt." 

"I'm  sure  that  you  have  been  naughty  if  Mammy 
wished  to  skin  you,"  she  said  rather  tamely,  and  then 
looked  steadily  away  from  him  in  order  to  prevent  any 
further  confidences. 

But  Anguish  was  now  vocal  with  his  wrongs. 

"I  wuzn't  doin'  nothin'  at  all  —  not  nothin' !  Jes' 
settin'  in  de  corner  snappin'  snap-beans,  like  she  done 
tole  me  to.  Some  hot  skillet  grease  popped  out  on 
Uncle  Peter  —  an'  when  he  cussed,  Mammy  jes'  na'chally 
turnt  round  an'  beat  on  me  !" 

"Well,  never  mind,"  Ariadne  could  not  refrain  from 
saying.  "Father  is  coming;  everything  will  be  all 
right  when  he  gets  here." 

"I'se  gwinter  tell  Mister  Ransome  on  Mammy,  too," 
muttered  the  boy. 

Ariadne  remained  silent.  She  had  gone  too  far  al- 
ready. The  absurd  little  shape  beside  her  continued, 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  49 

at  intervals,  to  mumble  threats  of  vengeance,  but  she 
pretended  not  to  hear  them.  The  smell  of  the  woods 
and  the  blue  sky  overhead  were  stealing  from  them  both 
the  irritation  of  past  trials. 

At  the  station  Ariadne  found  Mr.  Crane  in  a  cheap 
suit  of  red-brown,  the  exact  color  of  his  largest  freckle. 
Mrs.  Crane,  also  in  a  new  Culpeper  creation,  a  purple 
cotton  foulard  with  green  pansies,  vibrated  near.  Their 
greetings  to  Ariadne  were  hushed  and  decorous.  Already 
their  expressions  had  been  adjusted  to  the  importance  of 
the  coming  event.  After  a  moment's  struggle  with  her 
sense  of  propriety,  Mrs.  Crane  said  in  a  loud  church 
whisper : 

"We're  all  dyked  up  fer  it,  ain't  we,  Miss  Airey? 
That's  a  reel  pretty  dress  you  got  on.  Mine's  from 
Culpeper,  too."  She  moved  her  white  cotton  gloves 
caressingly  across  the  gleaming  folds  of  her  skirt,  and 
the  glance  sent  down  among  her  staring  pansies  showed 
that  in  their  owner's  eyes,  at  least,  comparison  did  not 
wilt  them. 

As  the  train  came  in  and  Ariadne  saw  her  father's 
tall  and  still  athletic  figure  spring  to  earth  and  stand  with 
upraised  arms,  waiting,  a  feeling  of  shyness,  almost  fear, 
drove  her  back  to  the  shelter  of  the  waiting-room  door. 

The  Cranes,  unhampered  by  timidity,  rushed  forward 
in  a  brace. 

"Why,  hello,  Jasper  !"  Ariadne  heard  her  father  cry. 
"Madonna,  this  is  one  of  my  boyhood  chums.  Old 
Jas'  and  I  have  been  on  many  a  'possum  hunt  together. 
And  here  is  Mrs.  Crane.  How  nice  to  see  you  both. 
May  I  present  my  wife,  Mrs.  Skipwith?" 

"  I  am  always  happy  to  meet  any  of  my  dear  husband's 
friends,"  said  a  thin,  childish  voice  sweetly. 

Ariadne  peered  forth  a  few  inches.    The  voice  had 


50  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER 

been  to  her  a  chime  of  silver.  She  saw  a  little  figure 
all  in  blue,  of  a  tone  so  vivid  that  her  own  cherished 
linen  seemed  faded,  moving  with  pretty,  timid  steps 
toward  the  Cranes.  Mrs.  Crane  responded  at  once  to 
the  cordial  hand-clasp,  but  her  lord,  fallen  suddenly  shy, 
looked  down  at  the  white  kid  morsel  dubiously,  until, 
recalled  to  better  manners  by  a  scornful  prod  from  Mrs. 
Crane,  he  seized  it  feverishly  and  began  pumping  it  up 
and  down. 

"But  where  is  my  daughter?  Hasn't  she  come?" 
Mr.  Skipwith  was  beginning,  when  he  caught  sight  of 
the  shrinking,  cornflower  hat.  "There  she  is,"  he  ex- 
claimed, laughing.  "Come  here,  you  monkey;  what 
are  you  hiding  for?  I  want  you." 

She  was  in  his  arms  now,  clinging  to  him  silently  — 
tremulously.  They  had  never  been  parted  for  so  many 
days.  Even  the  new  stepmother  was  for  the  instant 
forgotten. 

"Father  —  father  —  I've  missed  you  so,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

"And  this  is  Ariadne  !"  cried  the  high,  silvery  voice. 
A  small  white  hand  stole  in  between  them. 

"Let  her  go,  Ransome.  She  belongs  to  me,  too.  I'm 
crazy  to  see  her !  Oh,  you  dear,  pretty  child !  You 
will  love  me,  won't  you?" 

Her  arms,  the  wind-blown,  fluttering  veils  of  white 
and  blue,  and  the  scent  of  violets  closed  about  the  girl 
in  one  bewildering,  perfumed  cloud. 

"Say  you  are  going  to  love  me,"  pleaded  the  little 
figure,  standing  on  tip-toe  to  kiss  her  daughter's  cheek. 

"  Why  —  yes  —  of  course  —  I  —  I  —  do,"  stammered 
Ariadne,  leaning  down  farther. 

Mr.  Skipwith  flung  his  strong  arms  about  them  both. 
His  eyes  stung  with  happiness. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER  51 

"Pretty  lucky  fellow,  don't  you  think,  Jas'  ?"  he  called 
out  boyishly. 

Mrs.  Crane  gathered  up  her  green  pansies.  She 
thought  Mr.  Skipwith's  exhibition  somewhat  undignified 
—  the  people  in  the  train  were  grinning.  She  was 
thankful  that  now  it  had  started  on  its  noisy  way. 

But  Ransome  Skipwith  was  beyond  self-consciousness. 
He  longed  to  laugh  aloud,  to  cry,  to  turn  somersaults 
or  punch  somebody,  just  as  thirty  years  before  he  might 
have  done  when  he  had  been  given  a  circus  ticket. 

Now  he  caught  sight  of  Anguish  grinning  from  ear 
to  ear. 

"Anguish  —  you  black  rascal  —  that  surely  isn't 
you?"  he  shouted  boisterously. 

"  Yas,  sir,  Mister  Ransun,  hit's  me." 

"But  you've  grown  since  I  saw  you.  You're  'most  as 
big  as  Mr.  Crane  now.  And  by  the  Lord  Harry  !  a 
bran'  new  suit  of  clothes  !" 

Anguish,  in  his  writhing  ecstasy,  bade  fair  to  lose  the 
commended  garments. 

"Look  at  my  shoes,  Mister  Ransun,"  he  stuttered 
hysterically,  and  thrust  forth  one  tan-clad  foot  and  then 
the  other.  "Dey  cost  free  dollars  —  an'  de  shoe-strings 
is  got  gold  tassels." 

Mr.  Skipwith  threw  back  his  head  and  roared  until 
the  boards  shook  under  him,  at  which  Anguish,  now 
frenzied  with  joy,  executed  a  series  of  hand-springs,  new 
shoes  and  all,  that  very  nearly  precipitated  him  into  a 
red-clay  gully. 

The  green  pansies  had  withdrawn  themselves. 

"Mercy  —  what  is  the  creature  doing?"  cried  Mrs. 
Skipwith,  as  Anguish  revolved  past.  She  clung  to  her 
husband's  arm  for  protection. 

"Only  what  I'd  like  to  do  myself,"  laughed  Mr.  Skip- 


52  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

with.  "Well,  we  must  see  to  your  trunks  and  start 
home.  Doesn't  that  sound  good,  Madonna  —  home!" 

At  his  smile,  she  nestled  even  closer  and  touched  his 
shoulder  with  her  veils. 

"  Here  is  old  Peter,"  Mr.  Skipwith  went  on.  "Come 
here,  Peter,  and  be  presented  to  your  new  mistress." 

Peter  came  slowly ;  there  was  dignity  and  a  certain 
protest  in  the  shambling  figure. 

"I'ze  pleezed  to  see  yo',  ve'y  good  health,  Marse 
Ransome,"  he  said,  ducking  his  woolly  head.  "An  I'ze 
proud  to  meet  Mis'  Skipwif.  My  mistus  sends  her 
compliments  and  sez  she  is  waitin'  up  at  de  Big  House." 

Mrs.  Skipwith's  trunks  made  an  imposing  pyramid  on 
the  little  platform.  There  was  not  a  dozen  of  them,  but 
there  were  several,  and  each  was  newer  than  the  other. 
Peter  needed  assistance  to  fit  them  all  into  the  once-blue 
cart. 

At  the  double  phaeton,  Donna,  slipping  into  the  back 
seat,  gave  her  husband  a  playful  little  push  forward. 

"You  sit  with  the  driver,  Ransome,"  she  commanded. 
"I  want  Ariadne  here  with  me." 

The  little  journey,  often  a  tedious,  jogging  affair, 
passed  for  Ariadne  like  the  flight  of  a  tropic  bird. 

Gazing  through  the  many  layers  of  tissue  at  her  step- 
mother, she  caught  entrancing  glimpses  of  red  lips, 
flushed  cheeks,  clustering,  yellow  ringlets  and  eyes  held 
very  wide  open,  like  those  of  little  Dick  Carter;  one 
small  hand  caressed  her  own.  Madonna's'  aura  was 
perfume,  her  sentences  dripped  honey.  Again  and 
again  she  spoke  of  the  affection  which  was  to  be  theirs, 
binding  them  forever;  and  each  time  the  girl's  timid 
assent  was  given  with  increased  sincerity. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  if  you  but  knew  how  sad  and  lonely 
my  life  has  been,  you  would  realize  what  this  happiness 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  53 

of  winning  a  strong  man's  love,  and  now  of  having  his 
own  dear  child  to  cherish,  must  seem  to  me,"  the  little 
woman  whispered. 

Ariadne  gazed  back  dumbly.  She  had  no  words,  but 
her  heart  ached  with  the  new  tenderness. 

"Sometimes  I  have  a  dreadful  feeling  that  it  cannot 
last,"  Madonna  went  on,  seeing  how  earnestly  her  words 
were  being  taken.  "It  is  too  much  !  I  am  afraid  every 
minute  of  waking  as  from  a  wonderful  dream." 

"No,  you  will  never  wake,"  answered  Ariadne,  in  a 
voice  that  thrilled.  "We  are  all  going  to  be  happy  for- 
ever and  ever !" 

"My  little  sister!  My  own  precious  little  sister!" 
murmured  the  other,  and  for  a  moment  lifted  the  girl's 
hand  to  her  cheek. 

Ariadne's  eyes  looked  out  a  little  wistfully.  She  had 
said  that  all  were  to  be  happy.  But  what  of  Grandma 
and  the  old,  before-the-war  trunks  already  packed? 

She  stole  another  look  at  her  companion's  pink-veiled 
face.  Her  own  cleared.  No  one,  not  even  Mrs.  Bannis- 
ter, could  long  resist  such  pleading  accents,  or  refuse  the 
affection  so  pathetically  desired. 

When  the  gateway  came  into  view,  and  Mr.  Skip- 
with  turned  to  announce  it  to  his  bride,  her  excitement 
became  intense.  She  moved  her  head  all  ways  at  once. 
When  the  Big  House  appeared,  its  stately  columns 
draped  as  if  in  her  honor  with  a  tapestry  of  purple  wis- 
taria flowers,  she  clapped  her  hands  and  cried  out  her 
admiration. 

"Oh,  it  is  even  bigger  and  handsomer  than  I  had 
hoped  !"  she  exclaimed. 

"And  there  is  Grandma,  standing  on  the  porch  to 
welcome  us,"  added  the  girl. 

The  old  lady,  in  her  black  silk  and  priceless  laces, 


54  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN  WATER 

erect,  slender,  and  patrician  to  her  trembling  finger- 
tips, stood  just  beyond  the  curtain  of  amethystine 
flowers. 

Mr.  Skipwith  got  from  the  phaeton  first,  and  looking 
up  to  her,  bared  his  head  and  called  the  one  word 
"Mother!"  The  old  lady  smiled  and  bent  her  white 
crown  an  inch. 

Donna  was  lifted  out  bodily.  As  he  set  her  down, 
Ransome  drew  one  arm  through  his  own  and  hurried 
her  up  the  shallow  steps. 

Mrs.  Bannister  did  not  advance ;  she  extended  one  of 
her  hands  to  an  unnecessary  distance  and  said  stiffly : 

"Mrs.  Skipwith,  I  believe?  I  trust  your  journey  has 
.not  been  too  fatiguing." 

"  Madonna,  allow  me  to  present  my  mother-in-law, 
Mrs.  Bannister,"  said  Ransome,  even  more  stiffly.  In 
spite  of  his  instantaneous  acceptance  of  the  old  lady's 
attitude,  he  could  not  restrain  a  glance  of  pained  inquiry 
toward  Ariadne.  Her  young  eyes  were  flashing.  With 
her  head  in  the  air  she  came  swiftly  to  Donna's  other 
side. 

"  Supper  can  be  served  at  once,  if  you  are  ready  for 
it,"  said  the  old  lady.  Then,  with  an  increase  of  frigid 
courtesy,  she  added,  speaking  directly  to  the  little 
figure :  "Or  perhaps  Mrs.  Skipwith  prefers  to  go  to  her 
room  first." 

"  Yes  —  thanks,"  murmured  Donna.  "  I  would  prefer 
that.  Where  is  my  hand-bag,  Ransome?" 

"I've  got  it,  Donna,"  said  the  girl,  speaking  her  step- 
mother's name  for  the  first  time.  "I'll  go  up  with 
you." 

Donna  smiled  at  her. 

"Only  to  show  me  the  way,  dear.  I  must  get  the 
dust  of  travel  off  alone.  No,  I  don't  want  you,  Ransome. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER  55 

I'm  sure  Mrs.  Bannister  has  things  to  say  to  you.  I'll 
be  down  again  in  five  minutes." 

She  and  Ariadne  hurried  off,  leaving  a  trail  of  violets. 

Mrs.  Bannister,  putting  her  handkerchief  to  her  nose, 
turned  and  walked  into  the  house. 

Mr.  Skipwith  stared  after  her  in  silence.  Astonish- 
ment and  incredulity  made  his  face,  at  first,  a  blank. 
Then  anger  came  —  only  a  flash  of  it  —  for  pain, 
swiftly  following,  blotted  out  all  other  expression.  He  lit 
a  cigarette,  but  almost  immediately  cast  it  down.  At 
last,  with  brows  drawn  heavily,  he  began  a  slow  pacing 
of  the  long  veranda. 

Within  doors  Mrs.  Bannister,  too,  was  walking  rest- 
lessly. For  nearly  fourteen  years  this  man  had  been  to 
her  as  a  devoted  son.  No  words  but  those  of  affection 
had  ever  passed  between  them.  Now  she  had  failed 
him  —  had  seemed  willing  to  give  deliberate  suffering. 
It  was  a  fitting  climax  to  this  most  dreadful  day.  Well, 
to-morrow  she  would  be  away,  and  the  love-feast  could 
go  on  without  interruption.  Ariadne  appeared  at  the 
door  an  instant,  and  then,  seeing  that  her  father  was  not 
there,  hurried  out  to  the  porch  to  join  him. 

Mrs.  Skipwith  remained  up-stairs  much  longer  than 
five  minutes.  Mammy  Susan  in  the  kitchen  was  grum- 
bling that  "de  chicken  would  be  tough  ez  turkey-buzzard 
if  it  wasn't  et  soon."  And  Ransome  had  impatiently 
lighted  a  third  cigarette  before  he  heard  his  name  called 
from  the  stairway. 

He  went  in  hurriedly  to  meet  her,  Ariadne  at  his 
heels,  and  before  entering  the  room  where  the  austere 
figure  of  Mrs.  Bannister  presided,  took  Donna  into  his 
arms,  holding  her  close  in  an  unspoken  apology. 

It  was  a  delicate  and  chivalrous  act  of  homage,  but 
with  a  sort  of  nervous  simper  the  little  woman  pushed 


36  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

him  away,  saying  that  he  mustn't  spoil  her  hair.  At 
the  door  she  turned  quickly  and  flecked  the  coat  lapel 
which  her  cheek  had  brushed. 

Mrs.  Bannister,  bowing  distantly,  motioned  the  new 
wife  to  the  head  of  the  table  where  she  herself  had  always 
sat.  The  tall,  carved  chair  was  moved  now  to  the  side, 
facing  the  mantel  and  Virginia  Skipwith's  portrait. 

Under  the  light  of  the  swinging  lamp,  the  table  gleamed 
and  sparkled.  Pink  flowers  were  in  the  center,  and  the 
old  Skipwith  silver  shone.  Most  of  the  dishes  were 
cold.  Hot  rolls,  fried  chicken,  and  coffee  were  still  to 
be  served. 

The  meal  was  to  all  interminable.  Such  conversa- 
tion as  could  flourish  in  a  soil  so  antipathetic  was  given 
chiefly  in  the  bride's  praise  of  each  new  delicacy  and 
Mrs.  Bannister's  stereotyped  demurs.  The  tension 
increased  at  each  moment,  and  once,  at  least,  threatened 
to  snap. 

During  one  of  the  deadly  pauses,  the  newcomer's  eyes 
had  strayed  upward  to  the  pictured  face  against  the  wall ; 
seeing  in  it  another  topic  for  remark,  her  Lips  had  parted. 
Suddenly  Mrs.  Bannister's  fork  dropped  with  a  crash  — 
a  bit  of  the  rare  old  porcelain  was  shivered.  She  made 
no  apology  for  the  awkwardness  but  began  to  talk  rapidly 
to  her  son-in-law,  detailing  certain  repairs  upon  the 
place  and  some  needed  purchases. 

For  the  rest  of  the  time  Donna  sat  in  cowed  silence, 
and  when  at  last  it  was  over,  said  that  she  was  more 
fatigued  than  she  had  realized  and  would  be  glad  to  be 
allowed  to  retire  at  once. 

So  the  troubled  little  household  soon  dispersed,  each 
weary  and  still-excited  soul  being  thankful  that  its 
special  ordeal  was  over. 

Ariadne  had  thought  to  lie  awake  as  upon  the  previous 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN   WATER  57 

night,  but  scarcely  were  her  prayers  whispered  and  her 
young  head  with  its  two  fair  plaits  upon  the  pillow,  than 
sleep  found  her  out.  She  never  knew  that  two  hours  later 
her  grandmother  came  softly  into  the  room,  stood  at 
her  bedside,  and  gazed  with  desolate  eyes  upon  the 
"  one  ewe  lamb"  whom  she  had  begun  to  lose. 

In  the  morning,  all  traces  of  tears  and  sentiment  were 
gone.  Mr.  Skipwith  and  Ariadne  both  went  with  Mrs. 
Bannister  to  the  station.  Mrs.  Henry  and  "the  judge" 
were  to  meet  her  on  her  arrival  at  Culpeper.  Fare- 
wells were  casually  spoken,  the  old  lady  remarking  more 
than  once  that  after  all  she  was  not  going  very  far,  and 
she  hoped  that  Ariadne  would  be  allowed  to  come 
often  to  see  her.  She  did  not  falter,  even  at  the  parting 
embrace,  and  Ariadne,  waving  her  handkerchief  toward 
the  smiling  old  face  at  the  train  window,  felt  a  great 
thankfulness  that  it  had  all  passed  off  so  quietly. 

On  the  drive  home,  she  clung  lovingly  to  her  father's 
arm.  Their  talk  was  all  of  Madonna  —  for  so  Mr.  Skip- 
with called  her  —  of  improvements  at  Allan  Water,  of 
gay  little  traveling  excursions  that  the  three  were  some- 
times to  make.  New  life,  new  opportunities,  and  best 
of  all,  a  new  and  loving  intimacy  with  her  father's 
young  wife,  were  held  out  to  her  smiling  eyes.  The 
uneventful,  happy  days  of  the  old  grandmother's  domina- 
tion were  already  as  turned  pages  of  a  book,  that  was  to 
grow  more  exciting  with  each  new  chapter. 

The  first  week  passed  in  a  succession  of  joyous  holi- 
days. During  the  second  week,  Mr.  Skipwith  found  that 
he  was  compelled  to  take  a  flying  trip  to  Charleston. 
His  wife  insisted  on  going  with  him,  and  it  was  decided 
that  Ariadne  should  be  taken  as  far  as  Culpeper,  and 
there  left  with  her  grandmother  and  Cousin  Nellie 
until  the  couple  had  returned. 


58  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

The  visit  was  not  altogether  a  happy  one.  Mrs. 
Bannister  still  felt  the  effects  of  her  recent  uprooting, 
and  even  Cousin  Nellie,  being  harassed  just  then  by  the 
fact  that  measles  were  abroad  and  Dick  Carter  certain 
to  catch  them,  was  not  her  usual  sunshiny  self. 

Also,  Ariadne  resented  the  tone  in  which  the  two  ladies 
always  spoke  of  Madonna.  Loyalty  to  her  father's 
wife  led  her  into  exaggerated  statements  of  affection  and 
admiration,  and  the  commiserating  glances  exchanged 
between  her  listeners  added  fire  to  her  vehemence. 

She  was  a  little  surprised  at  her  own  willingness  to 
leave  her  grandmother  and  tried  to  soothe  her  conscience 
with  the  belief  that  it  was  merely  a  natural  longing  for 
the  free  air  and  wide,  wind-swept  spaces  of  her  home. 
But  this  scarcely  explained  the  relief  she  felt  when 
Cousin  Judge  suggested  that  he,  alone,  should  take  her 
to  the  station. 

"Yes,  Grandma,  that  will  be  lots  better,"  she  had 
seconded  with  eagerness.  "The  days  are  getting  hot, 
and  the  station  is  so  bare  and  dusty." 

The  train  by  which  the  couple  would  arrive,  being  a 
fast  express,  stopped  but  a  moment  at  so  small  a  town 
as  Culpeper.  Mr.  Skipwith  waited  in  readiness  on  one 
of  the  vestibule  platforms  calling  at  sight  of  her  to 
"jump  in."  He  and  Judge  Henry  barely  achieved  a 
hearty  hand-grasp,  while  Donna  waved  coquettishly 
from  the  drawing-room  window. 

Mrs.  Skipwith  welcomed  her  stepdaughter  tenderly, 
declaring  that  the  few  days  had  been  months  without 
her.  The  red  velvet  seat,  in  a  corner  of  which  the  bride 
was  curled  up  on  one  foot,  was,  for  the  rest  of  it,  heaped 
up  precariously  with  books,  newspapers,  magazines,  and 
candy  boxes.  Half-wilted  flowers  stood  in  the  drinking 
glass,  and  lay  sidewise  in  the  toilet  basin  of  the  small, 


ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN  WATER  59 

private  dressing-room.  Donna  was  in  the  highest 
spirits.  Her  visit  had  evidently  been  a  triumphal  prog- 
ress. "They  all  tried  to  eat  me  up,  they  pretended 
to  be  so  glad  to  see  me,"  she  assured  Ariadne ;  and  then 
added  in  a  tone  that  somehow  did  not  seem  to  be  the 
real  Donna,  "and  maybe  I  didn't  get  even  with  one  or 
two  of  the  old  cats." 

Mrs.  Skipwith  and  Ariadne  sat  together,  opposite. 
The  man  laughed  at  the  gay  chatter  of  his  "girls," 
as  he  loved  to  call  them;  but  Ariadne  noticed  how 
often  he  leaned  his  head  against  the  cushioned  back, 
closing  his  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  a  glare  grown  suddenly 
too  strong. 

During  one  such  interval  she  bent  an  anxious  face 
toward  her  stepmother.  "How  white  and  tired  father 
looks  to-day,"  she  whispered.  "Didn't  he  feel  well 
in  Charleston?" 

Donna  glanced  up  sharply.  She  frowned  as  if  the 
question  had  been  a  personal  affront.  "Certainly 
your  father  was  well.  I  never  saw  him  better.  Aren't 
you  perfectly  well,  dearest?" 

Ransome  opened  his  heavy  eyes  quickly.  "What  is 
it  ?  Yes  —  why  of  course  I  am  all  right,  dear.  The 
sun  was  pretty  hot,  you  know,  and  it  seems  to  have 
brought  on  a  bit  of  a  headache.  It  amounts  to  nothing, 
I  assure  you." 

But  now  Mrs.  Skipwith's  face,  too,  was  anxious. 
She  sprang  up,  precipitating  the  mass  of  periodicals 
and  boxes  to  the  floor,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  her 
husband's  forehead.  He  smiled,  pressing  the  small 
gloved  fingers  closer.  Ariadne,  on  her  knees,  was 
reaching  about  for  scattered  chocolates. 

Donna,  thoroughly  aroused,  continued  to  question 
him,  and  finally,  seconded  by  Ariadne,  persuaded  him 


60  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

to  lie  full  length  on  the  couch  and  have  a  bandage  of 
iced  water  across  his  eyes. 

"That  does  feel  good,"  he  murmured,  and  for  the 
remainder  of  the  trip  was  silent. 

That  night  he  ate  nothing,  went  to  bed  unusually 
early,  and  in  the  morning  appeared  with  large  dark 
circles  round  the  eyes,  which  spoke  of  pain.  But, 
manlike,  he  refused  to  admit  that  anything  was  wrong, 
declaring  that  the  good  night's  rest  had  made  him  "right 
as  a  trivet." 

Rising  from  a  scarcely  tasted  breakfast  he  said : 
"I  have  promised  old  Peter  to  go  with  him  on  a  tour  of 
inspection.  He  tells  me  that  there  are  some  fences 
that  need  mending  badly." 

"Please  take  an  umbrella  then,  father,"  urged  Ari- 
adne. "The  sun  is  even  hotter  than  it  was  yesterday." 
She  ran  out  into  the  hall  to  the  old-fashioned,  rosewood 
hat-rack,  which  had  large,  zinc-lined  holders  at  its 
two  ends,  and  came  back  with  an  ancient,  green  cotton 
specimen  that  Mr.  Skipwith  laughingly  declared  would 
frighten  the  cows  from  their  pasture. 

"I  don't  think  you  should  go  out  at  all,"  insisted  his 
wife.  "You  did  not  sleep  well,  and  your  eyes  look 
feverish  right  now." 

"Give  me  the  green  umbrella,"  cried  Mr.  Skipwith, 
in  a  tone  of  comic  resignation.  "I  see  that  I'm  to  be 
henpecked  from  the  start !" 

He  hurried  out  through  the  back  door,  waving  a 
hand  to  them  and  calling  loudly  for  Peter.  The  two 
women  who  loved  him  watched  with  troubled  eyes. 

"I  do  wish  he  hadn't!"  reiterated  Donna.  "But 
men  are  so  contrary.  They  never  listen  to  advice." 

She  turned  slowly.  Ariadne  slipped  an  arm  through 
hers,  and  they  made  their  way  into  the  pleasant,  flower 
bright  living-room. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  61 

In  the  corner,  which  for  so  many  tranquil  years  had 
harbored  old  Mrs.  Bannister's  mahogany  sewing-table 
with  the  crystal  knobs  beloved  of  small  Dick  Carter, 
a  dainty,  three-shelved  rack  of  gilded  wicker-work  now 
stood,  piled  with  materials  for  embroidery. 

Scarcely  were  the  two  seated,  and  their  pretty,  useless 
work  begun  when  there  was  heard,  from  the  hallway, 
the  scrape  and  slur  of  heavy  footsteps.  Both  heads  were 
lifted.  "Who  on  earth  can  that  be?"  exclaimed  Ari- 
adne. "I  never  heard  that  step  before." 

Mrs.  Skipwith  began  to  tremble. 

"It's  Ransome,"  she  cried.  "He  must  be  worse!" 
She  jumped  up  from  the  low  rocker,  while  thimble, 
scissors,  and  colored  silks  flew  to  the  winds. 

Before  it  was  possible  to  reach  the  door,  her  husband 
stood  there,  his  face  of  a  greenish  pallor  spread  with  a 
sheen  of  sweat.  He  attempted  to  smile,  but  pain 
twisted  his  lips  into  a  grimace.  As  Donna  flung  her 
arms  about  him,  he  writhed  and  gave  a  cry,  then,  with 
her  weight  dragging  him  down,  stumbled  across  the  room 
and  fell  full  length  on  the  leathern  couch.  His  wife 
sank  to  her  knees,  hurling  at  him  a  hundred  terrified 
questions. 

Ariadne  stooping,  whispered:  "Don't  try  to  ask 
father  anything  now.  Just  wait  a  minute.  I'll  go 
get  Mammy."  She  sped  like  an  arrow  into  the  kitchen. 
"Oh,  Mammy-Susan,"  she  gasped,  "father  is  terribly 
sick.  Go  in  to  him  while  I  write  a  telegram  for  Mr. 
Crane  to  send  to  Culpeper.  I  know  that  Doctor 
Buford  ought  to  come." 

"Don't  look  so  skeered,  chile,"  comforted  Mammy, 
but  nevertheless  she  had  begun  to  strip  the  biscuit 
dough  from  her  fat  black  hands.  "Yo'  Paw  ain't 
dyin' !  Nobody  don't  die  till  dey  time  comes  !" 


62  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Where  is  Anguish?"  the  girl  went  on.  "He  must 
ride  barebacked  to  the  station." 

"Ain't  no  trouble  finding  him.  Jest  look  fer  de  lef 
over  breakfas'  dishes." 

Peter  stumbled  in  at'  the  kitchen  door.  He  was 
mopping  his  forehead  with  an  old  red  handkerchief. 
"Marse  Ransome  wuz  sho'  took  suddint !  Right  down 
byde— " 

"Nebber  you  mind  whar  he  wuz  took,"  broke  in 
Mammy  rudely.  "You  stuff  light- wood  in  under  dat 
kittle  till  hit  screeches!"  She  now  ballooned  her 
majestic  way  into  the  living-room. 

Ariadne  finished  her  note  and  went  in  search  of 
Anguish.  For  once  he  was  not  stalking  food.  She 
discovered  him  halfway  up  the  trellis  that  inclosed  the 
back  gallery,  peering  in  through  the  glass  transom  of 
the  dining-room  door. 

"Get  down,  Anguish  !"  she  called  indignantly. 

The  little  negro  dropped  like  a  shot  owl,  striking  the 
floor  with  his  flat,  black  feet. 

"Go,  catch  the  Kentucky  mare,  and  ride  as  fast  as 
you  want  to.  This  is  a  telegram  for  Mr.  Crane  to 
send." 

Anguish  disappeared  with  a  whoop  of  joy. 

Hurrying  back  to  her  father,  she  found  old  Peter  and 
Mammy  in  the  act  of  carrying  him  up-stairs.  He  had 
one  arm  about  the  bent  shoulders  of  each  and  managed 
to  walk  a  little,  though  it  was  plain  that  every  step 
brought  agony.  The  wife  followed,  whimpering  and 
wringing  her  hands. 

"You  stay  down  here,  honey,"  advised  Mammy, 
catching  sight  of  the  girl.  "I  mout  need  you  to  fetch 
somethin'  up." 

Ariadne  threw  herself  to  the  couch,  still  warm  from  her 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  63 

father's  tortured  body.  With  fingers  pressed  into  her 
ears  she  tried  to  shut  out  the  sound  of  that  slow,  upward 
progress.  It  seemed  to  take  an  hour,  but  finally  the 
muffled  steps  ceased,  and  she  knew  they  had  reached 
the  bedchamber.  Old  Peter  came  thumping  down  the 
stairs  again.  She  was  at  the  foot  to  meet  him. 

"Law,  Miss  Airey,"  cried  the  old  man  at  her  sudden 
apparition.  "You  sho'  did  scarify  me.  You  is  whiter 
now  dan  yo'  Paw.  Don't  you  be  shakin'  !  Mammy  kin 
cure  ennybody.  She  sont  me  down  fer  de  kittle,  and 
she  sez  fer  you  to  tote  de  mustard.  Hit's  in  a  yaller 
box  on  de  shelf  behime  de  stove." 

Possessed  of  these  "first  aids"  the  two  began  the 
ascent.  Mammy's  turbaned  head  gloomed  from  the 
upper  railing.  At  sight  of  it,  Ariadne,  darting  past  old 
Peter  at  the  risk  of  sending  him  and  the  sizzling  kettle 
together  down  the  steps,  ran  up  to  her,  and  questioned 
breathlessly:  "Oh,  Mammy,  what  do  you  think  is 
really  the  matter  with  father?" 

"Belly-ache.  Jes'  plain  ole  Mr.  Belly-ache,"  an- 
swered the  old  woman  in  loud  and  cheerful  tones,  to 
which  she  added,  somewhat  cryptically:  "Dey's  more 
green  apples  dan  dem  what  grows  on  trees." 

Peter  ascended  by  slow  and  careful  steps.  The  sound 
of  his  fearful  breathing  could  be  heard.  Mammy's 
impatient  head  went  farther  out  into  the  air.  "Dey's 
cold  water  up  here  already,"  she  remarked  caustically. 
"Ennybody  would  think  to  see  you  dat  you  had  nebber 
toted  a  kittle  till  dis  day  !  " 

"You  needn't  gallump  lak  a  hopper-grass,  needer!" 
she  called  more  sharply,  when  he  responded  by  an 
obedient  spurt.  "Fust  thing  you'll  scald  yo'  fool 
footses,  an'  den  I'll  hatter  stop  an'  tie  'em  up.  Was 
de  water  bilin'?" 


64  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER 

"Bofe  my  laigs  is  scalted  through  my  pants,"  retorted 
Peter,  with  a  reproachful,  upward  glance. 

"Dat's  good  !  Now  tote  it  into  de  room  and  set  it 
on  de  hyarth.  Don't  slop  none  on  de  bran  new  kyarpit." 

She  was  silent  during  the  mystic  fashioning  of  the 
poultice.  In  the  quiet,  Mr.  Skipwith  gave  a  low, 
smothered  moan.  Donna,  echoing  with  a  cry,  crouched 
on  the  bed  beside  him.  Mammy  looked  around  by  a 
few  inches.  "Don't  do  no  good  yo'  settin'  on  him 
when  his  belly  hurts,  Miss  Skipwif!"  she  remarked. 
Donna  fell  back  a  little. 

The  nurse  in  charge  now  bore  down  on  her  prey. 
The  plaster  lay  along  her  bared  left  arm ;  her  right  was 
hung  with  towels. 

"Dear  old  Mammy,"  smiled  Ransome,  as  she  leaned 
over  him.  "I'm  sorry  to  give  so  much  trouble.  It's 
really  nothing  serious,  I  know." 

"Nuttin'  or  somethin',"  silenced  the  kindly  tyrant. 
"You  get  yo'  close  off  an'  crawl  under  dem  kivers. 
I'm  gwinter  put  dis  mustard  whar  hit'll  do  mo'  good 
dan  eatin'." 

"Peter!"  she  commanded,  "come  here  an'  hep' 
me  strip  my  baby."  Then,  in  a  more  significant  tone : 
"You  gals  ain't  got  no  business  here  jes'  now." 

"Come  into  my  room,  Donna,"  said  one  of  the  re- 
jected "gals"  in  haste.  "Mammy  will  call  us  when 
we  are  needed." 

Mrs.  Skipwith  appeared  to  hesitate.  She  gave  a 
feebly  defiant  look  upward  to  the  stern,  black  visage, 
receiving  in  return  a  large,  Juno-like  glance  of  scorn. 
Ariadne  took  her  stepmother's  arm. 

"It's  de  Lord's  blessin'  dat  one  of  'em's  got  de  sense 
she  wuz  born  with,"  old  Susan  commented,  .  as  the 
two  figures  vanished. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  65 

In  Ariadne's  chamber,  the  stepmother  gave  way  to 
more  open  remonstrance.  She  walked  restlessly,  refus- 
ing to  sit  at  all. 

"I  can't  stay  away  from  Ransome.  That  old  woman 
has  no  business  sending  me  out.  Oh,  Ariadne  !  Sup- 
pose anything  should  happen!" 

"You  couldn't  do  anything  just  now,  dear  Donna," 
said  the  girl,  trying  to  pacify  her.  "Mammy  is  a 
splendid  nurse.  She  makes  everybody  get  well.  But 
she  has  to  manage  in  her  own  way.  Don't  go  back  till 
she  calls  us." 

"But  this  is  torment.  Must  I  be  shut  out  while 
hirelings  minister  to  my  darling?  A  wife's  place  is  at 
her  husband's  side." 

"Not  while  his  clothes  are  being  taken  off,"  said 
Ariadne,  with  youthful  candor. 

Mrs.  Skipwith  was  checked  for  an  instant,  then  broke 
out  more  vehemently. 

"You  don't  understand  anything  about  it !  You  are 
only  a  child  !  You  know  nothing  of  the  sweet  intimacies 
of  love." 

"Perhaps  not,  but  I  know  Mammy!"  said  the  girl 
with  meaning. 

"You  are  all  against  me,  I  see  that !"  cried  Donna. 
For  a  moment  she  struggled  between  tears  and  anger, 
then  flinging  herself  to  the  nearest  chair,  she  broke 
into  a  passion  of  sobs. 


CHAPTER  IV 

WHEN  finally  Doctor  Buford  came,  even  the  dauntless 
and  dominant  Susan  was  glad  to  welcome  him.  Her 
hot  mustard  foot-baths  and  poultices,  supplemented 
by  doses  of  queer-smelling  herb  teas,  had  not  produced 
the  desired  effect.  The  pain  in  Mr.  Skipwith's  side 
increased  steadily. 

At  first  sight  of  his  patient  the  old  doctor,  without 
having  asked  a  question,  called  for  water  and  a  glass 
and  poured  into  it  a  few  drops  of  colorless  fluid. 

Not  until  Mr.  Skipwith  had  been  made  to  swallow 
this  did  the  physician  slip  on,  as  it  were,  his  robes  of 
office  and  begin  the  usual  formulae  of  questions  and 
replies. 

Donna  was  upon  the  bed,  her  elbow  in  Ransome's 
pillow.  Ariadne  stood  near  Doctor  Buford's  chair, 
ready  to  be  of  instantaneous  service,  while  across  the 
room  hovered  the  dark  and  troubled  shadows  —  old 
Peter  and  Mammy  Susan  —  waiting  to  hear  what 
"Marse  Doctor  Buford"  was  to  say.  All  there,  except 
Donna,  had  been  part  of  Ariadne's  childhood. 

Doctor  Buford  turned  a  little  to  pat  the  young  girl's 
hand. 

"Looks  better  already,  doesn't  he,  my  dear?"  the 
old  man  asked,  with  a  congratulatory  glance  back  to 
his  patient. 

"  Oh,  he  does, indeed  !  I  am  so  thankful  you've  come," 
answered  the  girl  fervently. 

A  long  sigh  of  relief  came  from  the  background,  then 


ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER  67 

Mammy's  muttered  admonition:  "Better  git  back  to 
yo'  work,  Peter  —  I  ain't  got  a  stick  er  oak-wood  to 
cook  my  dinner  with." 

As  they  turned,  the  doctor  called  out  genially : 

"All  you  did  was  exactly  right,  Susan  !  I  wouldn't 
swap  you  now  for  all  the  trained  nurses  in  Culpeper." 

"Thank  you  kin'ly,  Marse  Doctor,"  said  Mammy, 
her  white  teeth  gleaming. 

Old  Peter  ducked  suddenly.  Sometimes  Mammy's 
excitement  took  a  belligerent  turn.  The  two  went 
down  the  stairs  together. 

"Faithful  old  servants,"  murmured  Doctor  Buford. 
"It  is  sad  that  their  generation  is  so  soon  to  pass.  But 
now  to  our  patient.  Seems  to  have  been  a  pretty 
sudden  attack ;  ever  had  one  like  it  before,  Skipwith  ?  " 

"Never  !"   put  in  Donna  hastily. 

"No  —  why,  that  is  —  yes  —  come  to  think  of  it. 
I  had  entirely  forgotten.  This  same  sort  of  pain  took 
me  in  New  York  —  about  two  years  ago." 

"Was  a  physician  called  in?" 

"Henry  insisted  on  it  —  Judge  Henry  of  Culpeper, 
you  know.  We  were  up  there  together  on  our  mining 
business." 

A  sudden  recollection  of  the  New  York  doctor's  verdict 
made  the  sick  man  give  a  warning  look. 

He  added  hastily:     "It  didn't  amount  to  much  - 
I  got  over  it  in  a  couple  of  days  and  haven't  thought  of 
it  since." 

Doctor  Buford's  practiced  hands  were  stealing  under 
the  bed-clothes. 

"Oh,  Doctor!"  broke  in  the  wife  tremulously,  "we 
have  all  been  so  terrified  !  You  don't  think  it  anything 
really  serious,  do  you  !  I  simply  couldn't  bear  — 

"Now  don't  be  in  the  least  alarmed,"  interrupted  the 


68  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

doctor,  in  his  professionally  cheery  tone.  "I  only  want 
to  make  a  slight  examination  — 

But  Skipwith  had  writhed  back  from  him. 

"Not  there  —  don't  touch  me  there  —  I  can't  bear 
it !"  he  gasped. 

Doctor  Buford  rose  and  walked  to  the  nearest  win- 
dow, staring  down  thoughtfully  upon  a  lawn  that  he 
did  not  see.  He  was  vaguely  conscious  of  a  small 
figure  sprawling  on  the  grass,  but  at  first  his  eyes  were 
focused  inward. 

Anguish  had  been  set  to  dig  from  among  the  grass- 
roots the  insidious  crimson  tentacles  of  a  weed  called  by 
the  darkies  "creepin'  Jesus"  —a  process  of  extermina- 
tion that  went  on  at  the  rate  of  one  to  each  five  min- 
utes. Near  him  stood  an  old  tin  lard  bucket  that  was 
to  be  filled  within  the  hour,  or  Mammy  would  know 
the  reason  why.  As  yet  the  rusty  aperture  yawned 
with  emptiness. 

The  reluctant  gardener  squirmed,  looking  to  the  four 
corners  of  heaven  for  a  new  excuse  to  shirk,  and  all  at 
once  caught  sight  of  the  doctor.  Now  he  bounded  to 
his  feet  and  made  a  decorous  if  grinning  obeisance. 
The  doctor  barely  moved  his  hand  in  acknowledgment. 
Even  Anguish  could  not  make  him  smile. 

Ransome,  watching  him  hi  silence,  now  whispered  to 
Donna  that  she  and  Ariadne  had  better  leave. 

As  the  door  closed,  the  physician  turned  and  came 
back  to  the  patient's  bedside. 

"Well?"  said  Ransome,  with  a  note  of  sharpness. 
"I  can  see  that  you  think  it  serious.  Please  tell  me  the 
facts  exactly  as  they  are." 

"Pretty  bad,  Skipwith,  pretty  bad.  Of  course,  I 
may  overestimate  the  danger,  and  I  hope  to  God  I 
do  !  But  as  things  look  to  me  now,  I  must  tell  you 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  69 

frankly  that  it  is  an  operation  I  don't  want  to  undertake 
alone." 

"An  operation?     Is  it  as  serious  as  that?" 

"It  is,  and  we  haven't  any  time  to  lose,  either.  I 
want  to  telegraph  for  a  Richmond  physician.  I  can 
get  him  here  by  eight  or  nine,  and  I  think  I  can  hold 
you  over  till  then." 

"Don't  frighten  the  life  out  of  me  before  he  gets  his 
chance,"  said  Mr.  Skipwith,  trying  to  laugh.  "Send 
off.  the  telegram,  by  all  means.  And,  Doctor,"  he 
added,  as  the  old  man  reached  the  door,  "if  you  really 
feel  there  is  any  immediate  danger,  I  want  Henry 
here  at  once.  I  have  never  made  a  will  yet." 

"Judge  Henry  and  his  wife  left  yesterday  for  Charles- 
ton." 

The  sick  man  passed  his  hand  wearily  before  his 
eyes. 

"Yes,  of  course,  I  remember  now.  He  went  in  my 
place.  Between  you  and  this  infernal  wild-cat  gnawing 
at  my  side,  I  haven't  any  mind  left.  But  I've  got  to 
have  a  lawyer.  Send  for  that  young  cub  of  his,  Ran- 
dolph Carr.  He  has  been  admitted  to  the  Bar  and  is 
a  notary  as  well.  Henry  thinks  the  boy  has  a  brilliant 
future,  but  all  I  need  him  for  is  to  write  down  what  I 
dictate." 

"I'll  send  a  wire  to  him  at  the  same  time  I  get  off 
the  one  to  Richmond.  I'd  better  do  it  in  person,  too. 
Old  Peter  will  drive  me  to  the  station." 

During  the  afternoon  hours  Mr.  Skipwith  was  in  less 
pain. 

Because  of  the  reaction  from  an  agonizing  fear,  his 
wife's  spirits  returned  with  almost  an  excess  of  gayety. 
She  and  Ariadne  came  and  went  freely.  The  doctor, 
after  an  excellent  luncheon,  returned  to  the  sick-room 


70  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

and  stationed  himself  at  the  window,  where  he  smoked 
cigars  and  discoursed  somewhat  prosily  of  recent  social 
events  in  Culpeper. 

With  the  decrease  of  actual  suffering,  Mr.  Skipwith's 
fever  grew  steadily  higher.  It  restored  color  to  his 
sunken  cheeks  and  brought  such  brilliancy  to  his  dark 
eyes  that  Mrs.  Skipwith  again  and  again  called  the 
attention  of  the  others  to  his  altered  looks.  She  was 
now  radiant  and  seemed  to  think  the  possibility  of 
danger  already  past,  apparently  not  noticing  how  stereo- 
typed and  weary  the  doctor's  answering  assurances 
had  become. 

But  Ariadne  was  given  no  such  respite.  She  knew  by 
instinct  that  her  father  was  desperately  ill.  She  moved 
about  silently,  performing  each  allotted  task  with  a 
quickness  and  precision  that  drew  forth  the  old  doctor's 
admiration.  Once,  as  she  hurried  from  the  room  to 
fetch  some  needed  article,  he  turned  to  the  father,  saying 
with  feeling : 

"What  a  lovely  girl  Ariadne  is  becoming,  Skipwith  — • 
a  Virginia  thoroughbred  to  the  bone !" 

"Indeed  she  is,"  smiled  Ransome,  "and  as  straight 
and  fine  in  character  as  she  is  in  body.  This  little 
woman  here"  —he  gave  a  loving  glance  toward  his 
wife  —  "has  found  it  out  already,  haven't  you,  Ma- 
donna?" 

Later  on  Ariadne  could  not  fail  to  note  how  often 
Doctor  Buford  had  begun  to  consult  the  clock  upon  the 
mantel,  nor  the  frequency  with  which  her  father  de- 
manded the  fluid  that  brought  relief.  Once,  as  the 
doctor  stooped  to  give  it,  she  caught  the  glance  be- 
tween them,  which  seemed  to  say:  "Hadn't  we  better 
tell  them  now?" 

Was  it  imagination,  or  did  the  doctor  nod?    And 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  71 

did  the  bright,  sunken  eyes  turn  meaningly  upon  his 
bride,  with  the  unspoken  request:  "Get  her  first  from 
the  room?" 

A  great  trembling  took  the  girl.  For  once  she  sat 
down ;  her  knees  threatened  to  give  way.  No,  she  had 
not  imagined  the  sinister  exchange  of  signals,  for  now 
Doctor  Buford,  advancing  towards  Mrs.  Skipwith  with 
old-world  courtliness,  was  asking  her  to  take  a  stroll 
with  him  upon  the  lawn. 

The  little  woman,  much  surprised,  was  about  to 
excuse  herself,  when  the  sick  man  put  in  hurriedly : 

"Yes,  go,  my  dear.  You  have  been  cooped  up  in 
this  room  all  day.  A  little  air  is  just  the  thing  for  you. 
Take  her  along,  Buford;  Ariadne  will  stay  here  with 
me." 

As  the  two  went,  Ariadne  rose  from  her  chair,  and 
going  up  swiftly  to  her  father  said:  "You  wanted  to 
see  me  alone  —  you  sent  Donna  away  on  purpose." 

He  smiled  at  her  intelligence.  "What  a  smart  little 
girl  it  is,"  he  mocked,  trying  to  speak  lightly. 

"  She  —  she  —  doesn't  know  how  sick  you  are.  Oh, 
father,  is  it  really  serious?" 

"Sit  here  on  the  bed  beside  me,  little  comrade.  We've 
had  some  good  times  together,  haven't  we?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  she  breathed,  looking  down  upon  him 
with  dark,  adoring  eyes. 

"And  I  hope  there  are  lots  more  good  times  in  the 
future.  I  don't  want  to  frighten  you,  dear  child,  but 
I  am  in  danger,  and  there  are  some  things  I  want  to 
say  to  you  alone." 

"Yes,  daddy,  I'm  listening,"  she  answered,  with  a 
pathetic  effort  to  return  his  smile. 

"Old  Buford  said  you  were  a  thoroughbred  and  you 
are,  God  bless  you !  Well,  it's  just  this :  if  anything 


72  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

should  happen,  I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  Donna 
shall  never  be  left  alone." 

As  the  girl  found  no  words  at  once,  he  hurried  on : 

"There  are  no  fears  for  you,  Ariadne;  Virginia  is 
full  of  friends  and  relatives.  Fortunately,  there  will 
be  plenty  of  money  for  both  of  you.  But  Donna  cares 
nothing  about  that.  It  is  loneliness  I  dread  for  her  — 
poor  little  soul !  she  is  so  happy."  He  shut  his  eyes  a 
moment.  A  little  groan,  whether  of  physical  or  mental 
pain,  came  from  his  lips. 

"I  understand,  dear  father ;  you  want  to  be  sure  that 
she  will  always  have  some  one  to  love  and  comfort  her." 

"Yes,  that  is  it.  If  I  —  if  I  should  not  get  well  — 
her  grief  will  be  heartrending.  I  want  you  to  promise 
not  to  leave  her." 

"Oh,  father!  you  know  I  never  would!  Even  if 
you  had  not  asked  it,  I  would  always  be  with  Donna. 
She  loves  me  next  to  you  !" 

"Dear  little  comrade,"  said  the  man  again.  "That 
makes  everything  so  much  easier." 

"Oh,  father  !  but  you  will  get  well,"  she  pleaded,  her 
child's  heart  bursting  now  with  personal  grief.  She 
kissed  his  hands,  his  hair,  his  burning  cheek. 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  he  murmured  a  little  thickly. 
"But  we  must  think  of  Madonna.  Promise  me  that  no 
matter  what  happens,  you'll  never  give  her  up." 

"Never,  never !"   she  said,  struggling  with  her  tears. 

"No   matter   what   happens,"    he    reiterated.     "No 
matter  what  the  others  advise,  or  what  the  poor,  dis- 
tracted, little  soul  herself  may  do.     You'll  be  with  her 
-  holding  up  her  hands  —  " 

"Yes,  father!" 

"She  is  not  very  wise,"  the  stumbling  voice  went  on. 
"You  are  only  a  child  yet,  Ariadne,  but  in  some  ways 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  73 

you  are  stronger.  If  you  promise  —  if  you  give  me  your 
word  —  I  know  that  you'll  keep  faith." 

"Why,  I  hear  them  coming  back,"  said  Ariadne, 
sitting  upright.  "Somebody  is  with  them." 

The  sick  man's  clutch  on  her  two  wrists  was  of  burn- 
ing metal.  He,  too,  sat  upright,  his  brilliant  eyes 
piercing  her  own. 

"The  promise  —  you  have  not  given  it,  Ariadne. 
I  want  to  hear  you  swear  that  you  will  never  abandon 
Madonna." 

"Father,  I  swear  it.  You  have  my  sacred  promise 
never  to  give  Donna  up,  or  let  others  turn  me  against 
her." 

"Say,  '  So  help  me,  God  ' !  " 

"So  help  me,  God,"  repeated  the  girl  in  clear,  unfalter- 
ing words. 

"Now  I  am  satisfied,"  whispered  Ransome  Skipwith, 
falling  back  as  if  exhausted  on  his  pillow. 

His  wife  flung  open  the  door. 

"Here's  Mr.  Carr,  Ransome  —  Randy  Carr  from 
Culpeper.  He  says  he  has  come  over  to  see  how  you 
are." 

Ariadne,  without  pausing  for  the  conventional  greet- 
ing, slipped  past  them  to  her  room  and  locked  the 
door. 

A  few  moments  later  she  heard  Doctor  Buford  going 
alone  down  the  broad  stairway.  Mr.  Skipwith,  Donna, 
and  the  newcomer  were  left  in  the  sick  man's  chamber. 

Ariadne  was  thankful  for  this  opportunity  of  being 
by  herself.  Her  bewildered  thoughts,  held  back  so 
long  as  service  was  required  of  her,  now  swarmed  like 
bees  about  the  spot  where  a  familiar  hive  has  stood. 

It  was  not  the  promise,  but  her  father's  almost  avid 
demand  for  it,  that  terrified  her  most.  Life  had  just 


74  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

begun  for  her,  and  now  —  was  she  to  learn  so  soon  its 
most  fearful  lesson  ? 

She  clasped  her  hands,  moaning  low  that  the  others 
might  not  hear  her. 

There  must  be  some  place  to  turn,  some  power  that 
would  avert  so  hideous  and  unbelievable  a  tragedy. 
She  went  to  a  window  that  gave  upon  the  kitchen  yard. 
Mammy  was  throwing  scraps  to  a  scrambling,  rushing 
mass  of  chickens;  her  gospel  hymn,  crooned  in  a  rich, 
throaty  voice,  came  soothingly  to  the  girl's  ear.  At 
the  corner  of  the  kitchen  porch  old  Peter,  in  full  sun- 
shine, smoked  his  old  corn-cob  pipe.  Beyond  it  all  the 
apple  orchard,  now  clothed  in  green  with  a  myriad  tiny 
buttons  that  would  soon  be  fruit,  climbed  to  the  other 
side  of  the  valley  and  paused  at  the  ledge  of  rock. 

Surely  in  all  that  peace  and  beauty  the  ultimate  horror 
could  not  find  its  way  ! 

Retracing  her  steps,  Ariadne  went  to  her  door,  and 
partially  opening  it,  listened  for  her  father's  voice. 
Donna  was  speaking.  Her  high  accents  were  unshaken. 
The  words,  though  indistinguishable  at  this  distance, 
sounded  thoughtful  —  even  measured.  Now  Mr.  Skip- 
with  answered.  He,  too,  was  calm  and  spoke  with 
his  usual  somewhat  slow  precision.  A  sudden  murmur 
in  a  third  voice  brought  to  Ariadne  the  forgotten  fact 
of  young  Carr's  presence.  She  frowned  a  little,  won- 
dering how  he  had  learned  of  her  father's  illness  so  very 
quickly;  doubtless  Doctor  Buford  had  told  him  as  he 
left  Culpeper,  and  the  boy  had  been  sent  over  on  some 
important  business  by  Judge  Henry. 

Satisfied  by  this  explanation,  Ariadne  went  back  and 
began  to  brush  her  long,  fair  hair,  something  she  had  not 
thought  of  since  morning.  The  businesslike  voices,  too, 
had  helped  to  restore  her  confidence.  If  father  could 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  75 

talk  so  long  on  a  mere  business  matter,  he  was  surely 
in  no  immediate  danger. 

She  had  about  decided  to  go  down-stairs  to  find  Doctor 
Buford  and  urge  him  to  tell  her  exactly  what  he  thought, 
when  the  door  across  the  hall  opened  suddenly  and  she 
heard  some  one,  evidently  young  Carr,  come  out  rather 
quickly  and  begin  the  descent  of  the  steps.  Her  instinct 
of  hospitality  sent  her  flying  after.  No  guest  must  be 
allowed  to  leave  Allan  Water  alone. 

The  young  man  reached  the  lower  floor  before  she 
could  overtake  him.  There  was  something  vigorous 
and  protesting  in  the  swing  of  his  gray-clad  shoulders. 
He  went  up  to  Doctor  Buford,  who  had  been  walking 
up  and  down  the  hall,  and  she  heard  his  crisp  voice  say : 

"Doctor,  Mr.  Skipwith  wants  you  and  old  Peter  to 
sign  a  business  document." 

"I'll  go  call  Peter,"  answered  the  doctor. 

So  she  was  right.  It  had  been  a  message  from  Judge 
Henry,  who  was  her  father's  partner  in  the  mines. 

Young  Carr,  still  unnecessarily  energetic,  reached  for 
his  straw  hat  and  was  out  upon  the  wistaria-hung 
porch  before  Ariadne  could  accost  him. 

At  the  sound  of  her  light,  pursuing  feet  he  paused, 
turning.  He  did  not  smile  even  when,  with  extended 
hand,  she  said  to  him:  "I  am  Ariadne.  I  want  to 
thank  you  for  coming." 

He  took  her  hand,  bending  on  her  a  strangely  troubled 
glance. 

"Is  father  worse?"   she  asked  quickly. 

"No,  the  pain  seems  to  have  left  him  completely," 
he  answered. 

Her  face  brightened,  but  there  was  no  response  in 
his. 

"Won't  you  —  can't  I  get  you  some  cake  and  wine  ?" 


76  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

she  asked  a  little  timidly.  She  was  not  accustomed  to 
doing  the  honors  of  the  house. 

"Thank  you,  no,"  he  replied  almost  brusquely, 
"I'm  just  starting  for  the  station." 

"But  you're  not  going  to  walk  !"  she  protested,  her 
hospitality  again  in  arms.  "The  phaeton  can  be 
hitched  up  in  a  minute." 

"I'd  rather  walk.  There's  a  short  cut  somewhere, 
isn't  there?" 

"Yes,  I'll  show  you  —  if  you  care  to  have  me,"  said 
the  girl.  Again  she  felt  rebuffed .  Young  Carr,  with 
his  hat  still  in  his  hand,  drew  aside  into  the  swinging, 
purple  flowers  that  she  might  precede  him.  She  hurried 
down  the  shallow  steps,  wondering  if  all  young  men 
were  as  preoccupied  and  stern. 

"  It's  over  here  —  that  little  gate  in  the  youpon  hedge 
under  the  wild  cherry  tree,"  she  said,  first  pointing,  and 
then  hurrying  across  the  wide,  irregular  lawn.  She 
glanced  back  over  her  shoulder  to  see  if  he  were  follow- 
ing. 

The  spring  wind,  fretting  her  blue  skirts,  gave  them 
the  air  of  a  ruffled  morning-glory. 

Her  companion  made  his  way  more  slowly.  His 
frowning  eyes  were  on  the  moving  earth,  and  his  heels 
dug  somewhat  viciously  into  the  silvery  tufts  of  "rabbit- 
tobacco"  which,  with  the  tiny  red  explosions  of  "creep- 
in*  Jesus,"  were  the  chief  enemies  of  the  legitimate 
grass. 

"Hold  on  there  a  minute,  please  !"  he  cried-,  as  the 
girl,  having  reached  the  gate,  put  a  tentative  hand  to 
its  latch.  "My  train  isn't  due  yet.  I  just  had  to  get 
away  from  that  house.  There  is  something  I  must  say 
to  you."  He  drew  out  his  watch,  a  handsome  gold  one 
•with  chain  attached.  This  had  been  his  chief  gift  on  his 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  77 

twenty-first  birthday  —  an  event  less  recent  than  he 
would  have  cared  just  now  to  admit.  He  studied  the 
timepiece  gravely,  as  he  had  seen  older  men  do. 

"To  me?"  exclaimed  Ariadne  in  astonishment. 
Then,  as  he  said  nothing,  only  continued  his  serious, 
thoughtful  study  of  her  upturned  face,  she  added  ner- 
vously: "If  father  is  getting  well,  nothing  about  me 
can  matter." 

"It  can,  too.  It  matters  a  lot;  I  want  to  explain 
something  —  to  —  to  — 

Now  it  was  his  turn  for  embarrassment.  He  looked 
from  side  to  side,  and  chancing  to  note  the  tree  near 
by,  went  up  to  it  and  leaned  against  the  trunk.  Un- 
consciously she  followed  and  stood  directly  before  him, 
questioning  with  wide,  clear  eyes. 

"You  see,"  he  broke  out  rather  unexpectedly,  "we're 
sort  of  kin.  Your  cousin,  Judge  Henry,  is  my  cousin 
twice  removed  —  I've  never  taken  time  to  work  it  out  — 
but  we  are.  All  Virginians  can  find  themselves  related 
if  they  sit  at  it.  Anyway,  let's  play  we  are ;  it  makes 
things  easier." 

He  raised  a  hopeful  glance,  but  at  her  expression  of 
bewilderment  gave  a  little  gesture  of  impatience,  not  at 
her  but  his  own  clumsy  presentation  of  a  subject  he  was 
now  determined  to  pursue.  He  frowned  more  heavily, 
.and  taking  from  his  pocket  an  old  clasp-knife  —  a 
beloved  and  battered  relic  of  his  school-boy  days  — 
began  tossing  it  up  and  down  unopened. 

"Your  father  sent  for  me,  you  know,"  he  began,  on 
a,  new  tack. 

"Yes,  about  some  business  papers,  didn't  he?" 

"Then  he  told  you!"  the  boy  exclaimed,  his  eyes 
brightening. 

"No,  nobody  told  me;    I  just  thought  it,"  she  an- 


78  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

swered,  and  then  regretted  the  words  which  clouded  the 
first  hint  of  radiance. 

Young  Carr  drew  a  sigh  of  resignation.  His  frown,  at 
least,  was  disappearing.  He  now  looked  directly  into 
her  eyes  with  his  honest,  hazel  ones,  and  the  expression 
of  his  lips  relaxed. 

Half-unconsciously,  he  opened  a  blade  of  the  old 
knife  and  began  clicking  it  with  a  sharp,  metallic  sound. 
He  slouched  more  easily  against  the  tree,  drawing  back 
one  tan  shoe  to  brace  himself  securely. 

Ariadne  watched  him  fascinated.  In  this  quiet  home 
few  young  people  came  into  her  life.  Now,  though  she 
could  not  have  said  just  why,  the  way  in  which  he 
snapped  the  knife-blade  seemed  in  her  young  eyes  a 
very  masculine,  even  a  thrilling  thing  to  do.  There  was 
something  attractive,  gallant,  virile  in  the  way  his 
necktie  hung,  and  in  the  soft,  overleaning  folds  of  his 
white  silk  shirt,  delicately  striped  with  blue. 

When  he  spoke  it  was  in  a  tone  evidently  chosen  for 
the  nature  of  his  revelation. 

"The  fact  is,  Ariadne,"  he  said,  "I  wasn't  really  sent 
for.  Your  father  wanted  Judge  Henry.  He  had  just 
left  Culpeper  on  some  other  business,  and  since  I'm 
his  cub  partner,  I  had  to  come  in  his  place,  though  God 
knows  I  wish  I  hadn't." 

The  last  words  broke  from  the  self-restraint  and  came 
with  such  vehemence  that  his  listener  was  startled.  She 
stared  at  him. 

"I  —  I  don't  mean  that  as  rudely  as  it  sounds," 
lie  pleaded,  "only  I  don't  like  having  been  the  one  to 
come.  The  truth  is,"  he  broke  out  again  quite  des- 
perately, "I've  just  drawn  up  your  father's  will." 

For  a  moment  the  girl  could  not  speak.  "Oh! 
You  said  he  was  better.  This  sounds  worse  than  any- 
thing," she  faltered. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  79 

"Not  at  all,"  he  hastened  to  assure  her.  "That's 
because  you  are  inexperienced.  Every  man  should  make 
a  will  —  a  decent  will."  He  scowled,  but  at  her  puzzled 
look  resumed  the  brisk  manner.  "This  little  spell 
has  given  your  father  a  scare.  He  and  his  wife 
decided  to  have  the  thing  drawn  up  at  once.  Your 
stepmother  practically  dictated  it."  Again  the  knife 
clicked  fiercely. 

"Why,  I  didn't  know  that  Madonna  understood 
wills." 

The  young  lawyer  gave  an  angry  laugh.  "She  does 
—  only  too  well.  It's  a  beastly,  rotten  thing  I've  had 
to  do,  Ariadne.  Judge  Henry  would  never  have  been 
bullied  into  it.  I  tried  to  protest.  Once  I  flung  down 
the  pen.  Your  father  called  me  a  damned  impertinent 
young  cub,  and  said  I  was  there  to  write  what  I  was  told, 
and  not  to  offer  unsolicited  advice."  He  clenched  his 
fist  at  the  thought.  "So  I  went  on.  That's  what  it 
means  to  be  a  lawyer.  I'd  like  to  get  a  job  as  dog- 
catcher  after  this  !  Doctor  Buford  and  old  Peter  wit- 
nessed it  —  without  reading  a  line,  of  course.  It's 
just  this  I  want  to  talk  about  now.  The  whole  thing  is 
abominably  unjust  to  you,  Ariadne.  It  must  never  be 
probated."  He  wheeled  around  to  the  tree,  and  as  an 
outlet  for  his  excitement,  made  a  long,  diagonal  cut  in 
the  silvery  bark.  A  red  wound  grinned  at  him. 

"I  don't  understand  half  of  what  you've  said,"  came 
the  girl's  clear  voice.  "I  don't  want  to  understand. 
But  nobody  can  make  me  believe  that  father  is  unjust. 
I  am  sorry  he  was  rude.  You  must  have  done  something 
very  bad  to  make  him  speak  that  way." 

"I  didn't  mean  to  criticize  your  father,"  protested 
the  youth.  "It's  all  your  stepmother's  doing." 

"I  love  Donna,  too,"  said  the  girl  haughtily.     "She's 


8o  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

the  sweetest  thing  you  ever  saw  to  me.  She  says  I'm 
like  her  own  dear  little  sister." 

"  Her  little  grandmother  ! "  ejaculated  the  young  man. 

Ariadne  ignored  him.  "Things  written  by  a  lawyer 
don't  count  for  much,"  she  went  on  scornfully.  "I 
had  a  long,  long  talk  with  father  before  you  came.  I 
have  promised  him  if  anything  dreadful  should  ever 
happen,  I  will  never,  never  leave  Madonna.  And  you 
know  I'll  keep  my  promise." 

"I  can  see  that !"  cried  the  other  desperately.  "But 
what  you  don't  realize  is  the  fact  that  you  are  letting 
yourself  be  bound  tighter  than  any  martyr  to  a  stake. 
No,  don't  try  to  stop  me ;  I  must  get  this  out.  Your 
father's  property  is  to  be  left  entirely  in  her  hands ; 
and  if  those  West  Virginia  mines  keep  on  at  the  rate  they 
are  producing,  he  and  his  partner,  Judge  Henry,  will  be 
millionaires.  Even  if  you  get  married,  you  are  still  bound 
to  her.  Every  Virginia  girl  gets  married.  Your  father 
started  to  make  it  so  that  if  you  gave  her  up  for  any 
cause  whatsoever,  you  should  lose  all  claim  to  his  estate. 
That  wasn't  quite  so  bad.  I  began  to  write  like  the 
devil  —  I  beg  your  pardon  !  —  like  mad,  to  get  it  in 
black  and  white ;  but  Mrs.  Skipwith  broke  in  and  said 
she'd  rather  have  it  dependent  on  your  love  and  gener- 
osity ;  that  if  you  ever  gave  her  up,  she'd  be  the  one  to 
lose  everything.  Oh,  she  was  wise  —  the  gay  old  bird  ! 
I'm  just  beginning  to  see  how  wise." 

"Stop!"  cried  Ariadne,  her  face  pale  with  anger. 
"You  should  not  dare  to  say  such  things.  But  I  am 
glad  you  did,  for  your  own  words  show  me  how  noble 
Donna  is.  She  trusts  me  as  my  father  trusts  me.  After 
this,  do  you  suppose  that  anybody"  —and  her  slow 
scornful  glance  seemed  to  add,  "especially  a  slanderer 
like  you"  —  "  could  turn  me  against  my  own  people  ?" 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  81 

Randolph  was  goaded  into  self-defense.  "But  you 
don't  know,"  he  began. 

"  As  if  I  would  ! "  continued  Ariadne,  with  a  withering 
glance.  "Donna  says  that  no  man  ever  comprehends  the 
beauty  and  self-sacrifice  of  a  woman's  nature.  And 
now  I  can  see  for  myself  how  true  it  is." 

"Oh,  Lord!"  groaned  the  badgered  youth.  He 
writhed  under  his  sense  of  helplessness.  Again  the 
unoffending  tree  received  a  vicious  thrust.  The  second 
stroke,  joining  at  the  top  with  the  first,  made  a  red 
inverted  "V." 

Ariadne  watched  him  for  a  moment,  her  small,  dimpled 
chin  in  air.  "I  must  say  good-by  now,"  she  remarked. 
"Father  may  be  needing  me."  The  morning-glory 
twirled,  feeling  a  new  indignation  that  the  outstretched 
hand  of  courtesy  had  been  ignored. 

"Please  don't  leave  like  this  !"  Randolph  entreated. 
"I'll  be  good;  I  swear  I  will.  After  all,  you  oughtn't 
to  be  so  hard  on  a  fellow  that  only  wants  to  be  your 
friend.  If  you  go  now,  it  shows  that  you  hate  me.  I 
don't  want  you  to  hate  me,  Ariadne.  I've  been  hor- 
ribly rough  and  stupid  and  hot-tempered,  but  it's  all 
for  you.  We're  sort  of  cousins,  you  know." 

The  girl  had  paused.  Randolph,  watching  under  his 
lashes,  drew  a  breath  of  relief,  for  he  saw  her  tense, 
young  figure  relax  and  the  spirited  head  droop  just  a  little. 

The  young  man  cautiously  pursued  his  advantage. 
"I  never  meant  to  hurt  or  anger  you  —  cross  my  heart, 
I  didn't !  Please  say  that  you  forgive  me." 

The  bright  head  went  lower.  She  shot  a  little  side- 
wise  look  of  hesitating  friendliness. 

"I'm  sure  it  was  those  horrid,  legal  terms  that  sounded 
the  worse.  For  a  moment  I  forgot  that  you  could  not 
possibly  understand  them ;  you're  only  a  kid." 


82  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"I'm  not  a  kid  !"  she  cried,  her  former  indignation 
returning  at  the  new  affront.  "I'm  fifteen  years  old 
this  very  day  !" 

"Oh,  then,  I  beg  your  pardon  !"  exclaimed  the  boy, 
trying  hard  not  to  laugh.  "That's  awful  old,  of  course." 
He  fingered  his  watch-chain  meaningly ;  but  the  sig- 
nificant gesture  was  lost. 

"Mammy  made  me  a  birthday  cake  this  big  around," 
she  went  on,  determined  to  overwhelm  him.  With  her 
slim,  outstretched  arms  she  encircled  an  imaginary  and 
gigantic  cake.  "There  are  fifteen  candles  on  it,  all  pink. 
Cousin  Nellie  brought  them  over  from  Culpeper,  and 
a  whole  box  of  the  loveliest  hair  ribbons.  Donna  gave 
me  this  little  turquoise  ring  with  a  heart  on  it ;  she  says 
it  is  her  heart." 

For  an  instant  the  tall  figure  of  the  boy  bent  over  her 
outstretched  hand.  The  tawdry  little  jewel  looked  like 
Donna. 

"We  haven't  even  thought  about  cutting  the  cake," 
the  girl  went  on  in  a  saddened  voice. 

"Fifteen  to-day  —  the  twenty-second  of  the  month 
of  May.  I  mustn't  forget  it,  since  we  are  to  be  good 
friends.  And  you  are  a  big  child  for  your  age,  too,"  he 
said  condescendingly,  wishing  to  tease  her,  longing  at  any 
price  to  win  the  smiles  back  to  her  face.  "I  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  you  were  nearly  up  to  my  shoulder." 

His  ruse  succeeded. 

"Up  to  your  shoulder  —  the  idea  !"  she  cried.  "I'm 
to  your  ear  at  least!" 

He  laughed,  straightening  himself  against  the  tree. 
With  pretty  eagerness  she  ran  up  to  him,  drawing  herself 
up  to  full  height  at  his  side.  Strands  of  bright  hair 
blew  out  in  a  little  gale  across  his  coat.  He  looked  down 
with  eyes  that  twinkled. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  83 

"I  could  eat  soup  off  of  it,"  he  said  loftily. 

"I  don't  believe  it;  you  cheated!  You  were  on 
tip-toe,"  she  protested,  breaking  away  from  him,  and 
putting  her  hand  to  a  cheek  that  tingled  strangely.  Her 
father's  coat  had  never  felt  like  that ! 

"Oh,  I  say!"  the  young  man  exclaimed,  with  the 
ardor  of  discovery.  "You've  got  the  prettiest  hair  I 
ever  saw  !  If  spiders  could  spin  gold,  I'd  think  about  a 
million  of  them  had  got  busy  with  your  head  over  night." 

Before  this  na'ive  admiration,  Ariadne's  last  defense 
went  down. 

"It  —  it  isn't  pretty  at  all,"  she  stammered,  while  a 
crimson  tide  of  pleasure  surged  up  into  her  face. 
"You're  only  making  fun." 

"I  am  not ;  I  mean  it.  You  know  I  do.  Oh,  please  ! " 
he  cried,  springing  forward  as  he  saw  her  turn.  "Don't 
run  away.  I  won't  say  it  any  more.  There's  something 
else  I  want  to  ask  you." 

She  paused,  her  back  to  him,  her  chin,  smooth  and 
firm  and  pink  as  a  just  ripened  nectarine,  tilted  high. 
This  she  now  turned  in  profile  over  her  shoulder,  and  he 
saw  that  her  lips  were  quivering  with  suppressed  laugh- 
ter. There  was  a  nervous  little  dimple  at  the  corner 
nearest  him. 

"Not  another  word  about  your  bein'  pretty,  I'll 
swear  it,"  he  began  to  plead.  "I  won't  even  mention 
your  dimple  —  honest  I  won't.  Being  your  cousin, 
I  have  a  right  to  inquire  into  your  affairs.  Now,  be  a 
good  child,  come  to  Cousin  Randy,  and  tell  him  what 
you  do  with  yourself  in  that  big  house  all  day?"  He 
nodded  toward  the  solemn  mansion. 

"You're  not  my  cousin  Randy;  you  are  just  a  big 
boy  trying  to  tease,"  she  protested.  Nevertheless,  she 
moved  back  toward  the  tree. 


$4  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER 

"You  haven't  answered  me.  How  do  you  get  through 
all  the  time  down  here?" 

"Why,  I  never  thought.  We  don't  do  very  much. 
I'm  out  in  the  garden  and  woods  a  lot.  When  I'm 
indoors  —  why,  now  that  Madonna  has  come,  we  just 
read  and  talk  and  sew  a  little,  and  just  walk  around." 

"But  surely  you  must  go  to  some  sort  of  school," 
he  said  a  little  patronizingly. 

"There  isn't  any  school  to  go  to,"  she  replied.  "Up 
till  a  few  months  ago  I  had  a  sort  of  governess,  a  teacher 
that  lived  here  with  Grandma  and  me." 

"An  impecunious  relation,  or  I'll  eat  my  hat!"  he 
put  in,  laughing. 

"Yes,  it  was,"  she  admitted.  "Father  never  thought 
she  knew  enough  to  teach,  but  Grandma  said  what 
did  that  matter  —  she  was  a  Winston  of  Winchester 
and  needed  our  assistance." 

"That's  Virginia  in  a  nutshell,"  cried  the  boy,  straight- 
ening himself  for  an  oratorical  gesture.  ' '  Your  education 
didn't  count !  It  was  the  old  dead-loss  of  a  relative 
that  must  be  thought  of.  Well,  I  want  to  go  to  a  place 
where  there  are  no  relatives  either  to  boost  you  or  to 
pull  you  down.  I  want  to  be  what  lean  make  of  myself." 

Ariadne  could  scarcely  hold  back  her  laughter.  Such 
vehemence,  such  sweeping  gestures  in  that  quiet  spot 
seemed  so  incongruous.  Yet  there  was  a  something 
in  his  voice  that  stirred  her. 

"You've  decided  to  be  a  lawyer  like  Cousin  Judge, 
when  you  grow  up,  haven't  you?" 

The  question  brought  him  down  to  common  earth. 
For  an  instant  his  dark  eyes  flashed.  "When  he  grew 
up"  indeed  !  He  gave  a  sound  indicative  of  derision  and 
then,  seeing  that  the  girl's  face  sparkled  with  a  thousand 
gleams  of  laughter,  threw  back  his  head  and  joined  her. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  85 

"That's  one  on  me  for  calling  you  a  kid,"  he  said 
good-naturedly.  "Yes,  I  am  going  to  be  a  lawyer; 
in  fact,  the  Virginia  Bar  considers  me  one  already." 

"Not  just  like  the  Judge,  I  reckon,"  he  went  on  in  a 
more  chastened  manner.  "That's  rather  a  large  order. 
He's  a  big  man,  Judge  Henry  is.  Why,  I  don't  believe 
that  all  the  money  in  the  world  would  make  him  take  on 
a  case  that  he  didn't  know  was  straight  —  or  write  a 
document  —  a  will,  for  instance  —  that  he  thought 
unjust  to  anybody."  His  face  clouded  suddenly,  and 
he  turned,  making  a  thrust  at  an  unoffending  green 
lizard  now  turning  from  green  to  silver  against  the 
cherry  bark. 

Ariadne  held  her  breath  until  she  saw  the  intended 
victim  leap  back  unharmed  into  the  hedge,  and  then  she 
asked  :  "Do  lawyers  get  money  for  doing  such  things  ?" 

"Great  heavens  !"  said  Randy,  staring  in  wonder  at 
such  primitive  ignorance,  "do  they  get  money  ?  That's 
all  that  most  of  them  care  about.  What  do  you  expect 
them  to  live  on?" 

"I  don't  — that  is  —  I  didn't  know,"  she  faltered. 
"Now  you  are  making  fun  again;  it's  in  your  eyes." 

"Your  question  rather  knocked  my  wind  out,   I'll 
admit.     I've  got  to  earn  my  living  through  the  Law  - 
as  much  as  Mr.  Crane  earns  his  in  being  station-master. 
My  one  doubt  is  whether  I  can.     The  fact  is,  Ariadne, 
I've  made  up  my  mind  to  leave  Virginia." 

"Leave  Virginia!"  she  echoed.  Her  voice  rang 
with  incredulity.  It  was  as  if  he  had  said  "leave  Para- 
dise." 

"Yes,  I  do,"  he  repeated  shamelessly.  "What's 
the  use  of  practicing  law  in  Culpeper?  Nothing  ever 
happens  there  but  niggers  shooting  craps  or  being  run 
in  for  'fragrancy'  -  -  which  is  what  they  call  'vagrancy.* 


86  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

And  besides,  if  I  ever  do  get  a  real  case,  everybody 
there  is  more  or  less  kin  to  me,  and  I  couldn't  charge 
them  anything." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  the  girl  hastily.  "But  it's 
awful  to  think  of  going  away  from  your  own  home  — 
and  your  people  —  and  —  everybody." 

"It  won't  be  a  picnic,"  admitted  the  youth  soberly. 
"But  the  very  loneliness  will  make  a  fellow  work  hard. 
Judge  Henry  and  his  wife  know  how  I  feel,  and  they  are 
with  me.  By  the  way,"  he  added,  before  the  girl  could 
speak,  "isn't  your  Cousin  Nellie  a  trump?" 

"Oh,  isn't  she?  "  responded  his  companion,  clasping 
her  hands  with  charming  eagerness.  "  Everybody  loves 
Cousin  Nellie  —  and  little  Dick  Carter  ! "  She  drew  a 
long  breath,  as  if  Dick  Carter's  charms  were  beyond  the 
power  of  speech. 

Randy  laughed.  "That  kid's  a  terror,  a  perfect 
terror.  I've  had  to  take  to  going  to  my  office  by  a 
back  street.  He  got  to  watching  for  me  and  yelling 
out  'Wandy!  Wandy!'  until  the  Fire  Brigade  used 
to  come." 

"Now  wasn't  that  precious  !"  cried  the  girl,  her  eyes 
shining.  "You  gave  him  a  little  tortoise  once,  didn't 
you?" 

"I  did,"  admitted  Randolph  darkly.  "That  was  the 
beginning  of  his  onslaughts.  How  did  you  know?" 

"He  brought  it  over  here  with  him,"  she  began. 
And  then,  with  many  interruptions  of  young  laughter, 
she  told  him  the  history  of  the  turtle's  dreadful  day. 
In  finishing,  she  added  :  "The  poor  little  thing  is  around 
here  somewhere  now,  that  is,  if  he  managed  to  live  after 
the  buttermilk.  Cousin  Nellie  said  she  wouldn't  have 
it  tortured  any  more,  so  Anguish  and  I  washed  it  under 
the  pump  and  turned  it  loose  among  the  bushes." 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  87 

She  stooped  over,  peering  among  the  thick  stems  of  the 
hedge  as  if  hoping  for  a  miraculous  appearance. 

Watching  her,  Randy  thought  that  any  beast  with 
eyes  and  ears  might  well  be  lured.  She  was  prettier 
now  than  any  girl  in  Culpeper,  and  he  was  just  planning 
a  crafty  scheme  by  which  Cousin  Nellie  should  get 
Ariadne  over  there  for  a  long  visit,  when  the  girl  stood 
upright,  and  making  a  forlorn  and  most  entrancing  little 
grimace,  said  plaintively:  "It  isn't  there." 

"Of  course  it  isn't,  goose!"  he  answered.  The 
words  were  not  chivalrous,  but  he  had  suddenly  dropped 
the  knife  and  now  had  her  two  hands  in  his.  He  bent 
down  that  his  eyes  might  look  straight  into  her  own. 
She  gave  a  tiny  gasp  and  then  stood  very  still.  It  was  in 
his  lean,  boyish  face  that  the  blood  now  surged. 

"Remember  I'm  your  friend,  your  best  friend,  Ari- 
adne ;  a  fellow  that  wants  you  to  give  him  a  chance  of 
undoing  a  beastly  thing  he  was  forced  into  —  something 
he  feels  unfair  to  you.  I  am  your  best  friend;  say  it, 
Ariadne  !" 

"Ye-es,"  she  answered,  shrinking  a  little  from  the 
eager  brightness  of  his  eyes.  "After  father  and  grandma 
and  Donna  and  Cousin  Nellie  Henry  - 

"Never  mind  about  calling  out  the  entire  population," 
he  laughed,  though  with  the  underlying  note  of  earnest- 
ness. "Outside  of  that  bunch,  then,  I  am  your  very 
dearest  friend  in  all  the  world?" 

She  nodded. 

He  gave  her  a  long,  remembering  look,  and  then, 
freeing  her  hands,  began  a  search  through  various  pockets. 
"I  wish  I  had  known  about  your  birthday,"  he  said  in 
a  regretful  tone.  "I'd  have  brought  you  a  present, 
sure.  I  wonder  if  I've  got  anything  about  me  that 
would  do?"  He  drew  out  a  crumpled  handkerchief, 


88  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

some  letters,  a  small  packet  of  beer-tickets  which  he 
hastily  concealed,  a  box  of  cigarettes  and  some  matches, 
a  leather  pocketbook  which  seemed  to  have  been  diet- 
ing, his  return  railway  ticket,  and  after  that  only  a 
button  and  a  few  loose  coins. 

"Not  much  in  exhibit  'A,'"  he  said  ruefully.  "If  I 
even  had  my  scarf-pin  on  !  We  ought  to  have  something, 
if  only  as  a  reminder." 

"I  shan't  need  a  reminder,  Randy,"  said  the  low,  sweet 
voice.  The  unfamiliar  name  was  whispered  with 
exquisite  shyness. 

He  flashed  a  look  of  quick  gratitude.  "Now  you've 
simply  got  to  have  a  fairing  !"  he  said.  "Here's  a  coin 
—  rather  a  bright  one ;  suppose  we  divide  it  ?  " 

As  she  did  not  answer,  being  in  fact  ignorant  of  what 
he  meant,  he  went  on  apologetically:  "Of  course,  it's 
an  awful  chestnut.  Everybody  does  it  in  novels  and 
on  the  stage,  but  we  shall  make  it  real.  Now  to  get 
the  darned  thing  broken!" 

He  put  it  between  his  strong,  white  teeth,  at  which 
Ariadne  gave  a  protesting  cry.  Next,  and  with  great 
effort,  he  bent  it  slightly  between  his  fingers.  "No 
good  that,"  he  murmured.  Then,  stooping  for  the 
knife,  he  thrust  the  small  piece  of  silver  into  an  open 
groove,  and  began  twisting  vigorously.  "This  does  the 
trick,"  he  announced  joyously.  "I  thought  it  would. 
Only  I  don't  want  the  edges  to  be  left  too  straight. 
You  know,  they  ought  to  wriggle,  so  that  when  the 
time  comes  for  us  to  fit  them  together,  there  can't  be 
any  mistake." 

"I  see  now  what  you  mean  !"  cried  Ariadne,  thrilling 
at  the  romance  of  the  situation.  "Why,  I've  never 
even  heard  of  breaking  a  coin  before  ! " 

"So  much  the  better,"  remarked  this  incipient  Chief 
Justice. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  89 

The  girl  watched  every  movement  with  breathless 
interest.  How  strong  Randy  was !  How  sure  of 
himself !  How  determined  to  have  things  yield  to  his 
wishes  !  Even  her  father,  who  until  this  moment  had 
been  her  one  idea  of  manly  strength  and  excellence, 
seemed  just  a  little  deliberate  and  worn  beside  this 
ardent  spirit. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Randy,  holding  a  half  of  the 
coin  up  in  either  hand.  "It's  got  a  bully  edge.  Looks 
like  a  camel  bit  it.  Now  you're  to  keep  your  piece,  and 
I'll  keep  mine,  and  no  matter  how  many  years  off  it 
may  be,  or  what  distance  is  between  us,  just  send  me 
this,  and  I  will  come  to  you.  Will  you  promise  to 
remember?" 

He  handed  her  one  half  with  solemn  courtesy. 

"Oh,  yes,"  declared  the  girl,  taking  it  and  then 
looking  up  with  earnest  eyes.  "How  wonderful  you 
are  !  I'm  very  glad  you  want  to  be  my  friend." 

Randy,  incredibly  pleased,  'yet  at  the  same  tune 
more  incredibly  embarrassed,  turned  for  refuge  to  the 
mutilated  tree. 

"Why,  here's  something  else  I  can  do!"  he  cried 
joyously,  "I've  almost  made  an  A  without  knowing  it. 
I'll  finish  up  and  carve  the  date  in  after.  The  tree  will 
keep  it  for  us." 

"Poor  tree  !"  sighed  Ariadne.  "Look  how  you  have 
made  it  bleed  already." 

"It  ought  to  be  proud  of  the  chance  to  bleed  for  such 
a  cause,"  said  Randolph  gallantly.  "Yours  is  the 
loveliest  name  I  know !" 

"Oh  !    But  your  own  hands  are  red  with  it." 

"That  shows  I  am  branded  forever  as  your  knight." 

"Listen  !"  the  girl  said,  throwing  her  head  back  like 
a  deer.  "Isn't  that  the  train?" 


90  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Randolph,  too,  listened.  A  faint  hooting  came  from 
distant  hills. 

"  Jimmininy,  it  is  !  It's  climbing  Wolf  Ridge  now. 
It's  me  for  a  sprint." 

"I'm  sorry,  but  good-by." 

She  laid  her  hand  in  his,  but  for  some  absurd  reason 
could  not  force  her  eyes  to  meet  his  own. 

As  he  hurried  through  the  gate  she  ran  to  it,  and 
waving,  called  once  more:  "Good-by,  Sir  Knight  of 
the  Cherry  Tree." 

He  turned  among  the  sumach  bushes.  His  eyes 
gleamed  like  the  brown  creek  of  Allan  Water  over  its 
golden  sands. 

He  bowed  in  exaggerated  courtesy,  making  at  the 
same  time  a  wide,  sweeping  gesture  with  his  hat. 

Ariadne  felt  the  swish  of  the  long  white  plume. 

"Good-by,  fair  lady,  my  Ariadne  of  Allan  Water  !" 


CHAPTER  V 

ARIADNE  danced  back  across  the  lawn.  The  air 
held  strange  sparkles ;  she  was  sure  now  that,  things 
were  corning  right.  She  looked  up  at  the  closed  blinds 
of  her  father's  room,  almost  believing,  in  this  new  rush 
of  hope,  that  his  dear  face  would  smile  down  upon  her. 

The  shutters  of  one  of  the  windows  were  suddenly 
thrown  back,  the  head  of  Doctor  Buford,  a  silver  sphere 
in  the  white,  afternoon  light,  showed  for  a  moment  and 
vanished.  There  was  nothing  to  excite  alarm ;  the  old 
man  had  been  swift  and  unnecessarily  direct,  it  is  true, 
but  there  might  be  a  dozen  reasons  for  his  celerity. 
The  girl  listened  keenly.  No  sound  came  from  the 
room,  but  far  off,  apparently  in  the  valley,  something 
again  hooted,  and  gave  a  long,  derisive  wail  ending  in  a 
shriek.  It  was  only  Randy's  train  slipping  down  the 
nearer  incline  of  Wolf  Ridge,  but  in  that  arrested  silence 
it  seemed  the  triumphant  cry  of  an  approaching  fury. 
Ariadne's  feet  froze  to  the  damp  earth  beneath  them. 
Her  mood  of  joy  became  a  shattered  vacuum,  into 
which  rushed  all  her  past  terrors  with  a  legion  in  pursuit. 
Her  sky  darkened,  and  a  thousand  bat- winged  fears 
beat  in  her  face.  She  struggled  to  move ;  the  numbness 
of  her  feet  spread  upward.  Now  she  cried  aloud, 
stretching  her  arms  toward  her  father.  As  if  her  voice 
had  cut  the  terrifying,  unseen  hindrance,  she  gave  a  leap 
forward  and  ran  toward  the  house. 

The  lower  floor  was  empty  and  suffocatingly  still. 
She  paused  at  the  foot  of  the  stair.  Footsteps  hurried 


92  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

above  her.  For  an  instant  she  clung,  half-fainting,  to 
the  newel-post,  and  then,  under  a  new  spur  of  premoni- 
tion, began  a  frantic  ascent. 

Before  she  could  reach  the  top,  a  dreadful  scream 
seemed  to  slit  through  the  very  tissue  of  her  soul. 

"Donna!"  she  answered.  Then,  with  a  cry  almost 
as  terrible,  "Ma-donna!" 

The  days  that  followed  were  like  some  endless,  mid- 
night storm,  pierced  by  the  sudden  lightning  of  a  woman's 
desperate  cries.  For  Donna  was  a  creature  gone  mad 
with  hysterical  grief. 

Ariadne  moved  through  the  blackness,  her  childish 
hands  outspread,  groping  always  for  that  other  one  who 
needed  her.  She  slept  with  Madonna  now,  and  often, 
when  the  slight,  cowering  form  had  sobbed  itself  into 
exhaustion,  the  girl  lay  awake,  staring  upward,  and 
wondering  how  it  was  possible  for  the  two  to  endure 
such  suffering  and  remain  alive. 

Somewhere  through  the  dark  the  dear  old  grandmother 
had  found  them,  taking  up  in  pitying  silence  a  routine 
of  existence  she  had  thought  forever  forfeited.  Judge 
Henry  and  Cousin  Nellie  also  came  and  went,  and 
once  young  Randy  Carr.  But  this  time  Ariadne  did 
not  see  him.  He  sent  a  great  cluster  of  old-fashioned, 
white  moss-roses  to  her  room,  knowing  their  inevitable 
destination.  The  girl's  tears  fell  on  his  flowers.  Grandma 
was  asked  to  voice  her  thanks. 

In  spite  of  his  sincere  liking  for  the  girl,  he  was  intensely 
relieved  when  she  excused  herself.  He  was  there  to 
fight  her  battles,  arguing  strongly  with  Judge  Henry 
against  the  probation  of  Mr.  Skipwith's  will,  and  he 
knew  that  he  could  have  no  opponent  more  vehement 
than  the  girl  herself. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  93 

Mrs.  Skipwith  remained  apathetic  and  indifferent. 
When  forced  into  expression,  she  would  weep  quietly 
and  repeat : 

"Ariadne  and  I  want  things  as  her  father  wished 
them." 

The  burden  of  this  decision  lay  heavily  upon  Judge 
Henry.  He  recognized  to  the  full  what  injustice  the 
legal  clinching  of  this  bond  would  mean  to  Ariadne,  and 
yet,  on  the  other  hand,  as  he  stated  to  his  indignant  and 
bellicose  young  "cub,"  with  such  a  girl  the  official  docu- 
ment meant  nothing.  "If  we,  for  her  sake,  attack  my 
poor  friend's  will,  we  merely  cast  dishonor  upon  one  who 
can  no  longer  protect  himself,  and  as  far  as  the  spirit  of 
his  wishes  is  concerned,  alter  nothing.  It  is  her  spoken 
promise  that  binds  Ariadne,  and  that  no  legal  process  can 
withdraw." 

So  at  last  the  document  was  filed.  Mrs.  Skipwith  be- 
came sole  beneficiary  of  her  husband's  rapidly-increasing 
interests.  To  Ariadne  these  worldly  considerations 
were  less  than  the  dead  autumn  leaves  that  now  began  to 
drift  across  her  father's  grave. 

Randy  Carr  came  no  more  to  Allan  Water,  and  no  one 
either  missed  or  spoke  of  him.  Cousin  Nellie  was,  as 
ever,  their  most  cherished  visitor.  Both  she  and  Mrs. 
Bannister  were  now  very  kind  to  the  widowed  bride. 
Even  their  indignation  when  the  will  was  read,  and  their 
suspicion  that  it  was  all  "Donna  Mayrant's  doings," 
could  not  permanently  alienate  their  sympathies. 

"The  poor  soul's  grief  is  genuine,"  old  Mrs.  Bannister 
had  said  one  day,  as  Mrs.  Skipwith  in  her  vague,  irreso- 
lute way  had  risen,  moved  aimlessly  about  and  then 
vanished.  "She  has  received  a  mortal  blow." 

Because  she  was  young  and  normal  and  lived  much  in 
the  open  air,  Ariadne  slowly,  and  with  bitter,  inward 


94  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

upbraiding,  realized  that  she  was  lifting  her  storm-beaten 
head  to  the  sun ;  that  her  young  heart  was  still  open  to 
the  beauty  of  the  changing  seasons ;  that  even  at  careless, 
unguarded  moments  she  could  laugh. 

Such  lapses  were  invariably  followed  by  hours  of 
repentant  weeping.  She  tried  to  scourge  herself  back  to 
her  first  despair  and  looked  with  humility  and  something 
approaching  worship  to  the  white,  unchanging  mask  of 
grief  that  Donna  wore. 

There  had  never  been  a  lovelier  autumn  :  the  gold  and 
scarlet  and  russet  tones  of  the  trees  sang,  as  it  were,  an 
orchestrated  triumph  of  color.  The  dark  fringed  gen- 
tians, lifting  blue  eyes  among  the  yellowing  ferns,  sur- 
prised Ariadne  with  joy.  The  sudden  flicker  of  a  scarlet 
tanager  was  a  little  torch  that  she  would  not  have  dared 
to  hold  against  her  heart. 

But  Donna  practically  never  left  the  house.  Most  of 
her  time  was  spent  in  the  room  where  her  husband  had 
died.  This  was  her  special  shrine.  Photographs  of 
Mr.  Skipwith,  beginning  from  his  very  infancy,  were  set 
about  in  silver  frames.  An  enlarged  portrait  hung  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  swathed  in  crape.  The  little  woman 
grew  thinner  and  developed  a  cough  which  she  refused  to 
treat  or  to  have  Doctor  Buford  advise  upon. 

Mrs.  Bannister  became  seriously  alarmed.  As  in  all 
such  emergencies  she  wrote  to  Cousin  Nellie,  receiving 
promptly  the  setting  of  a  "day." 

Ariadne  was,  naturally,  even  more  anxious  than  Mrs. 
Bannister  concerning  her  stepmother's  health,  and  in 
driving  Cousin  Nellie  from  the  station  talked  of  little 
else. 

"Well,  my  dear,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  the  old  lady 
cried,  in  welcoming  her.  "Somehow,  the  very  sight  of 
you  brings  energy." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  95 

"You'll  think  so  to-day,  I'm  sure,  when  you  hear  what 
I've  been  planning,"  retorted  Mrs.  Henry,  with  a  wrinkle 
of  mischief.  "Where  is  Donna ? " 

Mrs.  Bannister  sighed,  and  her  gentle  smile  fled. 

"  Up-stairs  as  usual,  rearranging  flowers  before  all  those 
photographs  of  poor  Ransome.  She  begins  to  make  a 
fetish  of  her  grief." 

"Shall  I  come  with  you?"  asked  Ariadne,  as  the  two 
ladies  moved  toward  the  living-room. 

"Yes,  come  along,"  said  Cousin  Nellie,  reaching  around 
and  drawing  the  girl's  hand  through  her  arm. 

Again  she  laughed  mischievously.  "Grandma's  a 
little  afraid  when  I  begin  to  talk  plans,"  she  confided  to 
the  girl  in  a  stage  whisper. 

"You  do  sometimes  appear  to  old-fashioned  eyes  a 
little  impulsive,  Nellie  dear,"  deprecated  the  old  lady 
with  a  faint,  backward  smile. 

"This  time  it  isn't  impulse,"  averred  Mrs.  Henry, 
when  at  last  the  three  were  seated  and  both  doors  closed. 
"I've  been  thinking  about  it  for  weeks,  and  have  talked 
over  every  point  with  Judge  Henry.  It's  a  matter  of 
plain  common  sense." 

"Out  with  it,  then,"  encouraged  Mrs.  Bannister, 
feigning  a  lightness  that  she  did  not  feel. 

"It's  more  for  our  girl  here  than  for  the  wretched  little 
creature  up-stairs,"  fenced  Cousin  Nellie,  smiling  affec- 
tionately on  Ariadne.  "But  Judge  Henry  and  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  two  simply  must  be 
taken  away  from  Allan  Water."  At  the  shocked  simul- 
taneous looks,  she  amended  hastily  :  "Not  for  good  and 
all,  of  course.  Just  for  a  visit :  to  keep  Donna  from 
rooting  herself  like  a  mandrake." 

"On  a  visit,"  murmured  the  old  lady,  when  her  breath 
came  back. 


96  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"We  have  consulted  Doctor  Buford,  too.  He  says  it 
is  absolutely  necessary  for  Mrs.  Skipwith  to  have  a 
change.  If  she  doesn't"  —  in  the  pause  she  gathered 
her  full  meed  of  horrified  attention  —  "he  will  not 
answer  for  the  consequences." 

"Oh,  Cousin  Nellie!  I'm  sure  I  can  persuade  her. 
She'll  do  almost  anything  for  me  !"  cried  Ariadne,  spring- 
ing to  her  feet.  She  was  for  darting  up  the  stairs  at  once 
and  bearing  her  charge  off  in  her  strong  young  arms. 

"Stop  —  stop,  my  dear,"  quavered  the  grandmother. 
"Hand  me  my  salts;  I  am  quite  overcome.  We  must 
think  first  where  you  are  going.  Was  it  Culpeper  you 
had  in  mind,  dear  Nellie  ?  " 

"Culpeper!  No!  That  would  only  be  a  smaller 
puddle  in  the  Slough  of  Despond.  They  want  to  break 
away  entirely :  new  scenes,  new  influences,  no  fa- 
miliar perches  for  the  widow-bird  to  sit  on.  Judge 
Henry  and  I  want  them  to  go  with  us  next  week  to  New 
York." 

Again  old  Mrs.  Bannister  was  speechless.  Ariadne 
fell  back  into  her  chair,  but  the  name  had  already  begun 
its  magic  work. 

"We  can  find  them  some  quiet,  homelike  lodgings," 
continued  Mrs.  Henry.  "And  I  think  they  had  better 
stay  there  until  very  nearly  Christmas.  Of  course,  they 
would  want  to  be  back  in  Virginia  then." 

"You  do  make  things  seem  unstable,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Bannister.  "I  can  see  that  the  move  may  have  advan- 
tages, but  it  appears  to  me  a  very  grave  responsibility  to 
assume." 

"That  may  be,"  admitted  Cousin  Nellie,  "but  it 
isn't  good  for  Ariadne  to  be  always  with  that  human 
watering-pot." 

"I'm  not  sure  Donna  will  go  so  far,  even  with  me," 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  97 

Ariadne  hesitated,  her  troubled,  young  eyes  turning  to 
the  speaker. 

"  She's  sure  to  object  at  first,  but  it  will  be  as  futile 
as  the  kicks  of  a  rabbit  when  you  hold  it  by  the  ears. 
If  the  rest  of  us  decide  upon  it,  she'll  go." 

"But  —  but  —  what  would  become  of  me,  alone  in 
this  big  house?"  asked  Mrs.  Bannister,  in  a  plaintive 
voice. 

"If  you  don't  want  to  come  back  to  us  at  Culpeper  - 
and  I  know  you  don't  —  oh,  my  feelings  are  not  hurt  in 
the  least,"  she  laughed,  as  Mrs.  Bannister  made  a  gesture 
of  protest  and  murmured  "My  dear  !"  "It's  like  living 
in  a  monkey  cage,  when  Dick  Kyarter  and  his  friends 
are  on  the  war  path.  You  are  better  off  and  happier 
here.  Do  you  remember  Cousin  Agnes  Hill?"  she 
questioned,  with  apparent  irrelevance. 

"Certainly!  We  were  girls  together  at  the  White 
Sulphur  Springs.  Agnes  Yarrow  was  quite  a  belle." 
The  old  lady  tossed  her  head  at  the  memory.  She 
could  well  afford  generous  tribute  to  Agnes,  for  it  was 
well  known  that  she  herself,  in  that  far-off  season,  had 
been  the  toast  and  beauty  of  the  countryside. 

"It's  hard  to  believe  when  you  look  at  her  now; 
that  school-marm  daughter-in-law  dragged  her  through 
the  briars  backward,  or  so  people  say.  Of  course 
Cousin  Agnes  never  mentions  it.  She's  too  much  of 
a  lady." 

"Naturally,"  said  Mrs.  Bannister. 

"Now  no  one  has  to  be  told  that  you  were  a  beauty, 
Cousin  Belinda,"  the  flatterer  went  on,  with  a  naughty 
little  wink  at  Ariadne.  "You  are  a  beauty  still.  Why, 
old  Colonel  Randolph  says  you  broke  enough  hearts  to 
pave  the  streets  of  Culpeper." 

"Nonsense,  my  dear!"  laughed  the  old  lady,  a  slow 


98  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

pink  flush  making  her  face  charming.  "An  aged  woman 
like  me,  who  has  long  since  put  by  all  vanities  !  But 
tell  me  more  of  Agnes  Yarrow." 

"That  son  in  Chicago  with  whom  she  lived  finally  died. 
He  never  amounted  to  much,  at  best.  There  was  a 
small  life  insurance  to  be  divided  between  his  widow  and 
his  mother.  The  wife  took  up  her  old  work  of  teaching 
school,  and  Cousin  Agnes,  after  all  these  years,  is  back 
home  in  the  South.  It  is  perfectly  pathetic  to  see  her 
joy  in  it !  There  really  is  no  permanent  place  for  her, 
poor  dear.  We  have  all  had  her  for  little  visits,  but  that 
isn't  like  a  home.  It  would  be  an  act  of  charity  for  you 
to  invite  her  to  spend  the  winter  at  Allan  Water.  Well, 
what  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 

She  leaned  forward,  watching  the  changing  expression 
in  the  elder  face. 

"I've  never  been  very  closely  associated  with  Agnes, 
in  spite  of  our  kinship,"  Mrs.  Bannister  said  doubtfully. 
"She  was  rather  a  —  a  —  frivolous  young  person,  as  I 
remember." 

"She  got  over  that  during  the  last  century.  Now 
she's  meeker  than  Moses.  You  see,  we've  had  her  at  the 
house,  and  I  have  been  sizing  the  dear  old  soul  up  just 
for  this  purpose.  She  plays  checkers  and  bezique  as 
well  as  you  do  —  perhaps  even  better." 

Mrs.  Bannister  raised  her  eyebrows,  at  which  the 
feminine  Machiavelli  before  her  had  to  stoop  for  a 
handkerchief  that  had  not  fallen,  in  order  to  conceal  a 
disrespectful  grin,  and  Ariadne  suddenly  rose  and  went 
to  a  window. 

"That  is  as  may  be,"  said  the  old  lady  stiffly.  "But 
what  is  far  more  important  —  is  she  a  reverent  woman, 
Nellie  ?  After  all  these  years  in  the  north  and  west 
does  she  still  read  her  Bible  ?  " 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  99 

"Night  and  morning.  She  would  as  soon  go  to  bed 
without  washing  her  face." 

Mrs.  Bannister  could  not  conceal  her  satisfaction. 

"It  would  seem  quite  a  providential  arrangement," 
she  conceded. 

"There  is  one  favor  she  would  ask  —  only  one,"  said 
Mrs.  Henry  quickly. 

The  elder  lady  grew  alert. 

"A  favor  ?     Of  what  nature,  my  dear ? " 

Ariadne  turned  a  little  anxiously. 

"I  told  her  that  you  didn't  like  animals  very  much, 
especially  dogs.  Neither  does  she,  with  the  exception  of 
an  old  cat  to  which  she  is  devoted.  She  calls  him 
'Doctor  Johnson.'  She  wouldn't  be  willing  to  go  any- 
where without  her  cat." 

Ariadne,  remembering  a  long  succession  of  banished 
kittens,  held  her  breath  for  the  next  words.  Perplexity 
struggled  plainly  on  the  old  lady's  visage.  Of  course, 
cats  did  not  go  mad  or  bite,  and  there  were  no  sleeping 
infants  near  whose  innocent  breath  could  be  sucked, 
yet  to  harbor  for  an  indefinite  visit  an  unknown 
quadruped  ! 

"What  a  nice,  dignified  name  —  Doctor  Johnson," 
the  girl  remarked,  as  if  to  the  window,  while  Cousin 
Nellie,  with  a  cunning  less  obvious,  murmured:  "Re- 
member what  trials  the  poor  soul  has  had.  It's  pitiful 
to  think  she  has  had  to  concentrate  her  love  upon  a  tom- 
cat." 

The  elder  lady  was  won ;  the  conspirators  exchanged 
triumphant  glances.  But  in  capitulating,  Mrs.  Bannister 
had  a  doubt  still  to  be  solved.  She  looked  toward  Mrs. 
Henry  earnestly  and  asked  :  "Is  Doctor  Johnson  a  well- 
mannered  cat?" 

While  the  laughter  following  Cousin  Nellie's  affirmative 


ioo  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

still  echoed,  Donna  came  into  the  room,  shrinking  a  little 
as  she  heard  the  sounds  of  mirth  and  caught  sight  of  Mrs. 
Henry's  glowing  countenance. 

The  New  York  project  was  laid  before  her  to  be  met 
at  first  by  the  prophesied  demurs. 

"But  I  want  to  go,  Donna,"  urged  her  stepdaughter, 
not  realizing  the  full  intent  of  truth  in  her  statement. 
"I  have  never  seen  New  York.  I  want  you  to  take  me 
there." 

"I  suppose  it  doesn't  matter  where  I  really  am,"  said 
the  widow  at  last.  "My  heart  will  always  be  in  Ran- 
some's  grave." 

Mrs.  Henry  squirmed  suddenly  then  told  herself  not 
to  be  a  fool. 

"So  it's  all  settled  !"  she  cried  in  her  brisk,  practical 
voice.  "Have  your  trunks  at  the  station  next  Tuesday 
at  eleven.  Judge  Henry  and  I  will  pick  you  up  on  our 
way  from  Culpeper.  Ariadne  can  play  with  Dick 
Kyarter  on  the  trip." 

"Oh,  I  shall  like  that !"  said  the  girl. 

"You'll  get  an  overdose  by  the  end  of  the  first  hour," 
said  Mrs.  Henry.  "But  we'll  have  the  drawing-room 
and  can  lock  him  in  when  he  becomes  too  awful.  Now, 
Donna,"  she  said,  turning  directly  to  the  little  widow, 
"you  won't  back  out?  I  can  count  on  you  for  next 
Tuesday?" 

"I  only  live  for  Ariadne,"  said  Donna.  "It  shall  be 
as  she  wishes." 

"I  will  stay  on  in  New  York  until  I  can  see  you  com- 
fortably settled ;  and  the  minute  I  come  home,  I'll  run 
over  here  for  the  day,  Cousin  Belinda,  and  tell  you  all 
about  them.  Now,  what  do  you  say  to  a  nice  game  of 
four-handed  bezique?" 

In  contrast  to  the  long  series  of  empty  days  which  had 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  101 

preceded  it,  the  little  flurry  of  preparation  for  the  North- 
ern trip  seemed  an  orgy  of  excitement. 

Whenever  she  felt  herself  becoming  too  much  inter- 
ested, the  widow  counteracted  the  fancied  disloyalty  by  a 
pilgrimage  to  her  husband's  grave.  But  the  packing 
went  on,  and  though  on  the  appointed  morning  both 
Donna  and  Ariadne  were  in  tears,  the  station  was  reached 
in  good  time.  Once  in  the  train,  with  Dick  Carter  falling 
from  all  the  seats  in  turn,  sentimental  regrets  had  no 
place  in  which  to  flourish. 

Cousin  Agnes,  "  Doctor  Johnson,"  and  one  modest, 
oilcloth  trunk  had  made  their  appearance  at  Allan 
Water  the  day  before. 

The  two  old  ladies  settled  down  at  once  into  a  reestab- 
lished friendship  and  a  new  association  that  was  to  last 
for  the  rest  of  their  gentle  lives. 

Ariadne's  first  letter  was  short  and  rather  full  of  the 
bewilderment  caused  by  this  sudden  advent  into  the  great 
city.  Mrs.  Skipwith  did  not  write;  this  was  no  sur- 
prise to  Mrs.  Bannister,  but  when  two  weeks  passed 
and  there  was  no  word  from  Nellie  Henry,  she  began  to 
feel  some  uneasiness.  In  a  postscript  to  the  girl's  latest 
letter  were  the  words : 

"We  are  just  home  from  a  matinee.  Madonna  feels 
that  it  is  doing  her  good  to  go  to  places." 

"A  matinee  !"  repeated  the  old  lady,  as  she  read  the 
letter  to  her  receptive  companion.  "Surely,  Agnes,  that 
means  something  at  a  playhouse  ! " 

"It  does,"  said  Cousin  Agnes.  "It  is  a  theater  in  the 
middle  of  the  day." 

Mrs.  Bannister  frowned. 

"It  does  not  seem  possible  that  a  woman  scarcely  six 
months  widowed  would  go  to  a  play." 

"Anything  is  possible  in  New  York  or  Chicago,"  said 


102  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Mrs.  Hill,  with  a  reminiscent  sigh.  "They  are  not 
Virginia." 

"I  shall  be  most  anxious  until  Nellie  Henry  comes," 
frowned  Mrs.  Bannister,  compressing  her  lips. 

A  few  days  later  a  very  brief  note  from  Culpeper 
stated  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Henry  had  arrived  and  would 
"be  over"  at  the  first  possible  moment.  Apparently 
the  moment  found  obstacles  in  the  way,  and  it  was  fully  a 
week  before  Mrs.  Bannister  was  asked  to  have  Anguish 
and  the  phaeton  in  readiness  to  meet  a  particular  train. 

Mrs.  Henry  arrived,  basket-less,  Dick  Carter-less,  and 
clothed  in  garments  of  a  somber  gray.  Her  cheeks  were 
less  rosy  than  usual,  and  her  pleasant  voice  had  a  chas- 
tened tone.  In  fact,  there  was  about  her  an  air  of  hu- 
mility so  unusual  and  yet  so  unmistakable  that  both  old 
ladies  felt  in  advance  a  touch  of  apprehension  that  her 
first  words  changed  to  alarm. 

"I  might  as  well  come  out  with  it :  I've  been  a  fool ! " 
said  Nellie  Henry,  sinking  to  the  corner  of  the  sofa  and 
looking  as  if  it  were  a  dentist's  chair.  "You  are  right, 
Cousin  Belinda.  I  do  plunge  into  other  people's  affairs 
too  recklessly." 

"But  what  has  happened,  dear  Nellie?"  besought 
Mrs.  Bannister.  "Don't  keep  me  in  suspense.  Is 
Ariadne — ?" 

"Nothing  has  happened  yet.  Ariadne's  all  right," 
said  Mrs.  Henry.  "It's  the  other  one,  and  what  may 
happen  in  the  future  !  Could  I  have  a  glass  of  your  black- 
berry cordial,  Cousin  Belinda  ?  I  need  it." 

Mrs.  Bannister  rose  hurriedly  and  touched  the  bell. 
Her  face  expressed  merely  a  troubled  questioning. 
Cousin  Agnes,  having  served  her  turn  in  the  great  world, 
felt  by  instinct  what  was  coming. 

"That  wretched  little  Donna,"  cried  the  visitor,  when 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  103 

a  glass  of  the  rich,  spicy  wine  had  been  drunk,  "has 
already  begun  to  paint  and  blondine  her  hair  again." 

"No  !"  gasped  Mrs.  Bannister. 

"It  is  the  truth!  And  that  is  not  the  worst.  Far 
from  moving  into  the  quiet  house  I  found  for  her,  she 
has  taken,  by  the  month,  one  of  the  best  suites  at  the 
Quaza.  She  says  she  likes  it,  and  that  it  cheers  her  up." 

"Cheers  her  up  !"  reiterated  the  speaker,  echoing  her 
own  words  with  scornful  bitterness,  for  by  this  time  her 
listeners  were  incapable  of  anything  but  gasps  and 
ejaculations.  "I  should  think  it  might,  to  the  tune  of 
hundreds  of  dollars  a  week  !" 

Mrs.  Bannister's  eyes  seemed  to  glaze.  She  fell  back 
in  an  attitude  of  exhaustion. 

"That's  nothing  for  a  fashionable  hotel,"  piped  Cousin 
Agnes,  "and  of  course  that  means  the  apartments  only, 
no  food  at  all." 

Mrs.  Henry  nodded.  "But  that  is  not  the  worst  yet," 
she  continued.  "She  has  begun  to  make  eyes  at  men 
again  !" 

•  At  this  a  hollow  silence  grew ;  the  old  lady  gave  a  sort 
of  shudder  and  then  became  rigid.  It  is  to  be  feared  that 
Cousin  Agnes  was  enjoying  herself. 

"She  has  begun  to  dress  the  part,  and  when  I  left  was 
prancing  up  and  down  Fifth  Avenue  with  gardenias 
pinned  to  her  bodice ;  looking  out  sidewise  from  under  a 
new  widow's  bonnet  that  cost  just  eighty  dollars.  And 
there  is  a  man,  a  sleek,  treacherous,  foreign-looking 
creature,  young  enough  to  be  her  son,  who  is  following 
her  about." 

Mrs.  Bannister  revived  with  a  shock. 

"Ariadne  must  be  sent  for  at  once,  at  once.  My 
granddaughter  cannot  be  allowed  to  remain  in  such 
surroundings." 


104  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"That's  the  real  tragedy,"  commiserated  Cousin 
Nellie.  "Ariadne  is  bound  to  her  stepmother,  hand  and 
foot.  She  begins  to  see  now  what  the  probating  of  that 
dreadful  will  is  going  to  mean  for  her." 

"But  surely,"  argued  the  old  lady  feverishly,  "Ran- 
some  had  no  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  this.  He  would 
be  the  first  to  wish  Ariadne  removed." 

"In  law  there  are  no  provisions  for  'might-have- 
beens/  "  said  Mrs.  Henry.  "I  know  enough  about  it  for 
that.  All  of  you,  with  Judge  Henry  leading,  insisted  on 
accepting  the  will.  Randy  Carr  and  I  were  the  only 
ones  with  common  sense.  Now  it's  too  late  to  interfere. 
Ariadne  is  chained  like  a  prisoner  to  a  cart.  No  matter 
if  that  silly  woman  Donna  married  again,  Ariadne  is 
still  her  slave.  Oh,  where  I  blame  myself,"  she  broke 
out  passionately,  "is  for  not  seeing  what  is  now  so 
odiously  clear :  that  it  was  inevitable  for  some  adven- 
turer to  marry  Ransome's  widow  for  her  money.  She  is 
too  easy  a  victim  to  escape." 

"That  man  who  you  say  is  following  her,  is  he  good- 
looking?"  asked  Cousin  Agnes  a  little  timidly.  She 
feared  the  fire  hi  Cousin  Belinda's  eyes,  and  yet  the  sub- 
ject had  a  fascination.  Cousin  Agnes  still  read  novels. 

"Yes,  he  is,"  admitted  Mrs.  Henry  with  angry  em- 
phasis. "In  his  own  repulsive  way  he  is  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  creatures  I  have  ever  seen.  His  face  is  almost 
perfect,  the  dark,  sleepy  type  that  schoolgirls  and  old 
fools  like  Donna  Mayrant  go  wild  about.  The  very 
sound  of  his  creamy  voice  infuriates  me.  Oh,  he'll  get 
Donna's  money  if  he  decides  that  she  has  enough  to 
make  it  worth  his  while." 

The  old  lady  vibrated  with  indignation. 

"I  can  scarcely  believe  that  it  is  I,  Belinda  Bannister, 
who  sit  here  listening  to  such  unspeakable  possibilities. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  105 

That  Mayrant  woman  must  not  be  allowed  to  marry 
again." 

Mrs.  Henry  shrugged.  "  Who  is  going  to  prevent  it  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"Yes  —  who?"  murmured  Cousin  Agnes.  She 
stooped  down  to  lift  Doctor  Johnson,  who  was  purring 
about  her  knees.  Mrs.  Bannister's  haggard,  restless 
eyes  unconsciously  fixed  upon  the  cat.  Unmoved  and 
careless  of  the  turmoil  all  about  him,  the  large,  slow 
creature  turned  in  his  mistress'  lap,  revolving  majesti- 
cally as  to  the  sound  of  a  fluted  minuet  unheard  by 
grosser  human  ears,  gave  now  a  dainty  pat,  and  then  a 
tentative  clutch,  under  which  the  meager  limbs  of  Cousin 
Agnes  flinched,  and  finally,  having  trodden  the  full 
measure  of  his  mystic  convolutions,  settled  all  at  once 
into  a  sleeping,  furry  ball  of  indifference. 

After  an  interval  Mrs.  Bannister  remarked  in  a  quieter 
voice:  "Even  if  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  just  now, 
Christmas  is  not  so  far  off.  Ariadne  will  insist  upon 
coming  home  for  that  date,  I  know.  Perhaps  we  can 
then  regain  some  influence  over  this  woman  —  who  — 
who — "  Words  failed  her.  She  drew  a  long  sigh  and 
then  looked  somewhat  wistfully  from  one  to  the  other 
of  her  companions. 

Early  in  Decembe'r  Mrs.  Bannister  wrote  a  personal 
letter  to  Mrs.  Skipwith,  entreating  her  to  return  to  Allan 
Water  for  Christmas.  The  reply  was  from  Ariadne,  a 
suppressed,  pathetic  little  letter,  written  evidently  in  a 
mood  of  intense  homesickness,  and  saying  that  Donna 
thought  it  would  be  bad  for  both  of  them  to  come  back  to 
a  place  so  full  of  sad  memories. 

Only  a  few  weeks  later  the  blow  fell.  "Donna  is  to 
marry  Mr.  Martel  in  a  few  days,"  Ariadne  wrote.  After 
a  honeymoon  of  two  weeks,  they  were  going  abroad  and 


io6  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

insisted  that  Ariadne  go  with  them.  In  the  interval  she 
was  to  return  for  a  brief  visit  home. 

When  the  girl  arrived  she  seemed  in  a  sort  of  daze. 
Her  reluctance  to  discuss  her  stepmother's  affairs  was 
obvious.  To  Mrs.  Bannister's  many  anxious  questions 
she  replied  as  briefly  as  possible. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Martel  was  kind  to  her.  He  treated  her 
like  a  very  little  girl  and  wanted  her  to  stop  wearing 
black  dresses.  She  had  been  compelled  to  refuse  this. 
He  was  always  very  polite,  though." 

When  the  old  lady  attempted  to  force  an  opinion  of  the 
marriage,  the  girl  hung  her  head,  and  as  though  in  per- 
sonal shame,  murmured : 

"I  cannot  understand  it  at  all,  Grandma.  They  say 
it  is  because  I  am  a  child  yet.  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  talk 
about  it!" 

When  at  last  the  summons  came  calling  Ariadne  to 
join  her  stepmother  in  New  York,  all  the  suppressed 
bitterness  in  old  Mrs.  Bannister's  heart  found  voice : 

"It  is  impossible  for  you  to  throw  in  your  young,  un- 
spotted life  with  such  people,  Ariadne.  Your  father 
himself,  were  he  alive,  would  forbid  it.  There  is  no  one 
who  will  blame  you.  In  his  name  as  well  as  my  own  I 
authorize  you  to  refuse  to  go  with  them." 

"I  must  go,  Grandma,  I  must,"  the  girl  insisted 
hopelessly. 

"There  is  no  must  about  it.  You  are  a  child  and 
should  be  protected  from  yourself.  You  cannot  be 
dragged  around  Europe  by  an  adventurer  like  that  man 
Martel  and  the  woman  who  has  bought  him." 

"I  was  more  of  a  child  when  father  asked  me  for  my 
promise,"  she  asserted. 

The  old  lady  struck  her  hands  together. 

"Your  father  must  have  been  in  delirium.     If  he  could 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  107 

have  dreamed  what  awful  consequences  were  to  follow, 
he  would  have  bitten  his  tongue  out  first." 

"He  asked  me  never  to  leave  Madonna." 

"She  doesn't  need  you  now.  The  creature  may  not 
even  want  you.  She  has  lost  her  head  completely  over 
that  low  man." 

"She  says  she  wants  me,"  the  girl  protested.  "And 
if  I  leave  her,  she  loses  all  the  money." 

"She  has  a  husband  —  such  as  he  is." 

"But  he  hasn't  any  money,  either.  Donna  told  me 
so." 

"And  you  —  a  Skip  with  of  Virginia  —  you  must  go 
about  with  such  outcasts,  so  that  they  may  spend  your 
father's  wealth.  It  is  intolerable  !" 

Ariadne  answered  nothing.  Her  small,  white  face 
showed  the  dumb  suffering  of  her  heart. 

"I  can't  endure  it;  I  can't  endure  it,  Ariadne!" 
cried  the  old  lady,  her  voice  suddenly  breaking  with 
sobs.  "You  are  all  I  have  in  the  world.  I  would 
rather  rr-  almost  —  see  you  lying  there  in  the  hillside, 
safe,  by  your  young  mother's  side." 

"I  would  rather  be  dead,  too,"  sobbed  Ariadne, 
flinging  her  arms  around  her  .grandmother  and  giving 
way  at  last  to  her  own  tears.  "I  don't  want  to  leave 
you.  Somehow,  I  am  afraid  of  Mr.  Martel.  I  don't 
believe  he  loves  Donna  as  she  loves  him.  I  don't 
understand  things,  I  know,  but  somehow  I  feel  that 
Donna  needs  me  more  than  ever." 

"Is  there  nothing  —  nothing  —  to  be  done?"  the 
old  lady  wailed ;  but  the  hopelessness  of  her  own  voice 
answered  her. 

"Maybe  they  won't  stay  in  Europe  very  long," 
said  Ariadne,  when  her  hysterical  sobs  had  been  quieted. 
"Donna  says  they  will  never  live  here.  He  hates  the 


io8  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

country.  If  they  are  in  New  York  I  can  be  at  home 
lots.  Don't  cry  any  more,  Grandma.  It  hurts  me  so 
to  see  you  cry.  We'll  just  keep  on  hoping  that  they 
will  get  tired  of  Europe  and  come  back." 

"Heaven  grant  it,"  said  the  old  lady,  wiping  her  eyes 
and  feeling  just  a  little  comforted.  "For  the  rest,  you 
can  only  bear  in  mind  that  you  are  a  child  of  gentle 
birth,  and  that  no  external  defilement  can  really  sully 
a  heart  that  is  in  itself  fine  and  pure.  Promise  me, 
my  child,  that  you  will  read  a  chapter  of  your  Bible 
every  night." 

"Oh,  Grandma,  you  know  I  will !" 

"And  that  you  will  never  fail  to  say  your  prayers, 
my  darling  !" 

"As  if  I  could,"  cried  Ariadne,  smiling  through  her 
tears.  "I  don't  believe  I'd  sleep  a  wink." 

"I,  too,  shall  pray,  with  all  the  strength  that  is  in 
me,  for  our  Heavenly  Father  to  have  you  in  His  keep- 
ing," faltered  the  old  lady,  beginning  to  weep  again. 

"Then  nothing  can  hurt  me,"  whispered  the  girl 
just  a  little  shyly,  for  these  were  things  of  which  she 
had  never  spoken.  "And  my  dear  father  who  was 
here  on  earth,  maybe  he  will  know  that  I  am  keeping 
my  promise  and  be  glad." 


BOOK   TWO 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  month  of  May,  which  in  Ariadne's  secluded  and 
fanciful  childhood  had  seemed  a  miracle  wrought  for 
Allan  Water  and  herself  alone,  had  trailed  its  fragrant, 
flower-embroidered  scarf  through  many  alien  lands. 

The  girl  had  learned,  in  these  years  of  wandering, 
that  spring  brought  a  universal  ecstasy.  Yet,  since 
it  was  her  birth  month,  there  was  still  in  her  heart  a 
conscious,  personal  singling  of  it  out  from  all  other 
seasons.  The  fiber  of  her  thoughts  grew,  as  it  were, 
more  sensitive.  Her  eyes  saw  beauty  clearer;  but 
though  best-loved,  it  always  brought,  with  heightened 
poignancy,  the  yearning  for  her  far-distant  home. 

Roses  breathed  a  common  language ;  the  upturned 
faces  of  children,  whether  they  were  plucking  green 
iris  from  Italian  hills  or  dusty  dandelions  from  arid, 
Spanish  soil,  answered  her  smile  with  the  same  shy 
friendliness.  The  round  world  was  more  beautiful 
than  she  had  ever  dreamed.  Yet,  with  increasing 
frequency  of  late,  her  very  soul  grew  sick,  as  at  this 
moment,  for  the  sight  of  white  clouds  drifting  above  her 
own  homeland,  for  the  sound  of  mocking-birds  and  the 
scarlet  tanager  among  familiar  junipers.  She  longed, 
almost  with  physical  anguish,  to  fling  herself  upon  the 
sanded  paths  of  Allan  Water,  and  hear  her  own  voice 
sobbing,  "I  am  at  home,  at  last!" 


no  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Now  May  was  here  again.  She  sat  alone  upon  a 
tiny,  iron-fenced  balcony,  staring  out  on  a  scene  so 
utterly  unlike  Virginia  that  it  was  hard  to  believe  it 
part  of  the  same  green  world. 

This,  the  seventh  of  May,  had  been  an  unusually 
warm  and  beautiful  day.  Across  Dutch  meadows, 
gilded  with  a  rime  of  close-set  buttercups,  the  spring 
wind  blew  with  a  gentleness  it  might  have  borrowed 
from  those  distant  American  hills.  The  great,  round 
sun  which  had  risen  gloriously  now  sank  to  a  still  more 
radiant  retreat. 

Less  than  a  week  before  they  had  reached  the  en- 
dearing little  town  of  Dordrecht.  It  was  seldom,  in- 
deed, that  Mr.  Martel,  whose  wishes,  or  rather  whose 
sudden  caprices,  formed  the  one  determinative  factor 
in  their  wandering  lives,  condescended  to  patronize 
such  small  communities.  He  loved  the  big,  Conti- 
nental capitals,  the  gaming-tables,  the  glitter  of  new 
hotels,  and  the  subdued  excitement  of  crowded  dming- 
halls.  Ariadne  knew  well  that  his  visit  to  this  ex- 
quisite, old-world  niche  had  been  the  direct  result,  as 
it  were,  of  a  careless  phrase  of  approbation  flung  toward 
it  by  a  red-faced  Englishman  at  Brussels.  "  Quite  a 
jolly  little  hole,  don't  you  know,"  Sir  Hedworth-Lam- 
son  had  drawled.  "And,  by  the  way,  Lady  Lamson 
and  I  expect  to  turn  up  in  that  neighborhood  some- 
where near  the  middle  of  the  month  in  our  yacht,  the 
Olivia.  If  you  chance  to  care  for  such  things,  I'll  have 
you  and  the  ladies  out  for  a  sail." 

This  invitation,  though  casual,  had  proved  a  social 
crumb  which,  unlike  many  others,  had  not  been  snatched 
away  in  the  very  moment  of  grasping.  The  Hed- 
worth-Lamsons  had  "turned-up,"  and  a  few  hours 
earlier  Ariadne,  thankful  that  her  own  excuses  had 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  in 

prevailed,  watched  the  jovial  little  party  embark.  It 
had  been  months  since  she  had  known  such  respite. 
Even  the  two  servants  had  disappeared  —  Cummins, 
the  English  maid,  and  the  unpleasant  smiling,  quick- 
eyed  valet,  Francois,  whose  deferential  manner  toward 
Martel  was  in  such  sinister  contrast  to  the  under- 
lying intimacy  that  seemed  to  bind  the  two  men  to- 
gether. 

From  the  first  moment  when  she  stepped  into  the 
flower-ringed  space  before  the  railway  station,  Ariadne 
had  loved  this  little  Dort.  No  wonder  it  was  called 
"the  Artists'  Town"!  The  brooding  tenderness  of 
old  Dutch  masters  hung  over  the  quiet  streets.  Each 
opened  window  was  a  screen  pulled  back  from  a  mag- 
nified De  Hooch,  and  each  unexpected  doorway  a 
canvas  by  Vermeer  or  Jan  Steen  come  suddenly  to  life. 
Even  at  this  late  day  one  needed  to  be  careful  in  turn- 
ing corners,  lest  a  precarious  easel  be  upset. 

With  an  interest  that  the  great  capitals  had  never 
aroused  in  her,  Ariadne  began  to  learn  the  ways  of  the 
small,  Dutch  town. 

For  hours  at  a  time  she  would  watch  the  boats  making 
slow  progress  into  or  out  of  the  main  artery  of  a  canal, 
turning  it  into  a  perpetual  market,  where  purchasers 
leaned  over  to  haggle  at  the  unstable  booths,  and  chil- 
dren were  continually  being  plucked  back  by  volumi- 
nous Dutch  petticoats  or  trousers,  that  they  might  not 
fall  head-first  into  some  crevice  of  dark  water. 

She  learned  for  herself  that  early  morning  is  the  true 
time  to  catch  all  the  latent  loveliness  of  Holland ;  and 
more  than  once  was  standing  on  her  chosen  bridge  as 
the  first  vegetable-laden  barge  pushed  through  the 
mists.  Under  the  dawn-glamour  the  little  fleet  of  ped- 
dlers looked  like  an  argosy  bearing  gems.  The  dripping 


ii2  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

cucumbers  were  of  jade  and  onyx;  the  long,  bunched 
carrots  gleamed  like  bars  of  gold;  and  the  bloated, 
purple  cabbages,  under  their  frost  of  dew,  looked  much 
more  like  great,  rough-hewn  amethysts  than  their 
humble  selves.  Soon  she  began  to  recognize  some  of 
the  children  by  sight,  and  shyly  made  friends  with 
them,  offering  crisp  wafflejes  and  hands  full  of  brown 
hoppjes,  as  she  might  scatter  corn  to  a  covey  of  dis- 
trustful pigeons. 

And  yet,  after  each  delightful  venture,  whether  be- 
side the  stone-walled  canals  or  along  narrow,  fascinating 
streets,  she  would  return  to  her  own  little  nook,  feeling 
that  here  the  natural  beauty  of  the  place  offered  its  full 
splendor. 

Her  room  was  at  a  corner  of  the  old  hotel,  two  floors 
up,  facing  the  confluence  of  rivers  that  was,  indeed, 
little  Dort's  chief  glory.  One  long  window,  opening 
to  the  floor,  gave  upon  a  narrow  balcony.  At  her  left 
the  railing,  making  a  sharp  angle,  ran  back  to  the 
weather-beaten  wall,  forming  the  corner  niche  which 
had  become  her  favorite  seat.  To  the  right  the  ve- 
randa extended,  without  interruption,  along  the  water 
fagade  of  the  building.  The  other  windows,  opening 
like  her  own,  belonged  to  the  suite  that  Mr.  Martel 
and  her  stepmother  now  occupied.  Directly  under- 
neath, starting  apparently  from  the  narrow,  curved, 
stone  pier,  three  splendid  streams  appeared  to  branch, 
and  one,  the  widest,  ran  straight  out  to  the  heart  of  the 
sunset. 

Low  marsh  lands,  level  across  the  surface  as  a  newly 
clipped  lawn,  bound  the  bright,  restless  waters.  Across 
them  she  could  see,  here  and  there,  clusters  of  trees, 
blue-green  with  distance,  and  standing  inevitably  near 
a  squat  church-tower  in  keen  silhouette,  while  a  little 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  113 

apart  moved  the  long,  wedge-shaped  flanges  of  a  sleepy 
windmill. 

In  all  her  wanderings  no  other  country,  not  even 
poetic  Italy, 'had  touched  the  girl's  heart  and  imagina- 
tion as  did  these  little  "Nederlands."  "What  makes 
you  so  precious  ?  "  she  sometimes  whispered  to  it.  After 
all,  it  was  only  part  of  the  ordinary  earth  made  up  of 
meadows  and  cows  and  buttercups  and  villages  and 
dear,  stolid,  human  people;  but  to  eyes  once  streaked 
with  its  magic,  the  cows  all  turned  to  ivory  and  jet,  so 
sleek  that  the  buttercups  could  almost  see  themselves 
reflected  in  recumbent  flanks;  the  meadows  became 
Olympic  terraces,  where  daisies,  dandelions,  and  butter- 
cups rested  like  stars,  quivering  upward  at  night  to 
their  allotted  places  in  a  purple  sky.  Even  the  village 
bricks  could  never  have  been  fashioned  from  dull  clay, 
or  being  so,  the  charm  of  centuries  had  changed  them 
into  cubes  showing  a  silvery  and  carnelian  bloom. 

As  for  the  people  —  was  there  another  race  which  so 
intrinsically  possessed,  and  was  in  turn  possessed  by, 
its  inheritance?  Holland  had  literally  been  made  by 
those  whose  children  now  maintained  and  worshiped 
her.  She  had  been  fought  for  not  only  against  human 
enemies,  but  the  eternal  menace  of  the  sea.  It  was  a 
conflict  never  to  be  ended.  Perhaps  because  of  it  one 
felt  that  here  a  love  of  country,  like  the  quiet,  unsleep- 
ing vigilance  against  encroachment,  was  part  of  the 
people's  soul.  The  little,  red-tiled  cottages,  always  so 
gayly  painted,  the  wide-flung  tapestries  of  tulips  and 
narcissi,  the  endless  turning  of  guardian  mills,  the 
clothes  and  strange  gold  ornaments  of  the  peasant 
folk,  no  less  than  the  pink  flesh  of  their  children,  were 
all  integrally  and  fundamentally  fibers  of  a  living 
whole. 


H4  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Of  such  things  was  the  young  girl  dreaming  as  she 
sat  on  the  balcony  alone.  Each  moment  the  descend- 
ing sun  grew  a  deeper  gold;  the  long  shafts  of  light 
quivered  across  a  faintly  rising  mist ;  out  on  the  watery 
highways  dull  orange  sails  were  drifting.  The  scene 
was  so  beautiful,  the  "holy  time"  so  still,  that  she  felt 
herself  almost  happy. 

"If  only — "  she  sighed  aloud.  Somehow  there 
must  always  be  for  her  those  words,  "if  only."  For  a 
moment  the  bright  head  drooped.  Then,  with  a  little 
shake  of  resolution,  she  lifted  it.  This  day  of  solitude 
had  been  welcomed  not  only  as  a  boon,  but  for  the 
opportunity  it  gave  of  thinking  out  a  something  —  a 
dreadful  creeping  something  —  that  could  no  longer  be 
ignored. 

Soon  Sir  Hedworth  and  his  guests  would  be  return- 
ing. She  had  fought  the  crouching  thing  all  day,  or 
rather,  turned  her  back  upon  it.  Now  it  must  be  faced. 
During  the  sunlit  hours  introspection  was  impossible. 
She  had  heard  children's  voices  and  met  the  smile  in 
their  blue  eyes.  Now  they  were  all  in  bed,  each  tucked 
away  —  the  darlings  !  —  in  the  snug  cupboard  of  a 
Dutch  "interior."  This  was  the  time  to  think. 

As  if  longing,  even  now,  for  respite,  the  girl  stood 
peering  to  the  left  and  right,  and  then,  with  shaded 
vision,  out  along  the  molten  surface  of  the  widest  stream. 
There  was  no  sign  of  the  Olivia. 

She  sat  down  again,  drawing  in  a  long,  tremulous 
sigh.  Her  eyes,  deliberately  withdrawn  from  beauty, 
turned  shrinkingly  to  the  dark  menace  that  lay  within. 
"I  must  have  imagined  it,"  she  whispered  despair- 
ingly. "Perhaps  I  live  in  myself  too  much.  There  is 
never  any  one  whom  I  can  talk  to.  I  may  be  growing 
into  one  of  those  morbid,  modern  women  whom  novelists 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  115 

are  now  writing  about.  It  may  be  only  my  nerves, 
and  a  doctor  would  be  able  to  help  me." 

She  stared  out,  frowning.  As  if  in  answer,  the  image 
of  Martel  slowly  took  shape  before  her.  His  beautiful, 
dark  head  blotted  the  sunset.  Again  his  red  lips  smiled. 
One  delicate  hand  went  up  to  caress  the  small  mustache, 
and  from  under  the  long  lashes  he  sent  again  that  look 
that  turned  her  heart  to  ice  —  a  slow,  possessive  look 
that  somehow  —  waited  ! 

She  crouched  down  in  her  chair,  covering  her  eyes. 
"Oh,  I  am  surely  losing  my  senses,"  she  shuddered. 
"He  is  my  stepfather,  married  to  my  own  dear  father's 
wife.  Although  during  the  first  long  years  with  him  I 
hated  him  and  was  sometimes  rude,  he  was  merely 
indifferent  and  kind.  I  blamed  myself  for  not  respond- 
ing to  his  friendliness.  When  did  this  dreadful  change, 
this  thing  that  is  in  my  veins  like  an  eating  acid,  when 
did  it  first  begin?" 

This  was  her  present  task :  to  trace,  no  matter  with 
what  loathing,  each  step  in  a  process  which  had  trans- 
formed her  feelings  from  shrinking  tolerance  into  a 
definite,  haunting,  ever-present  fear. 

The  stepmother  had  evidently  noticed  nothing.  She 
appeared  to  consider  Ariadne  still  a  child.  The  fact 
that  confidences  and  querulous  complaints  of  "Con- 
nie's" neglect  were  poured  into  her  inexperienced  ears 
made  no  difference  in  the  attitude.  A  chiropodist 
would  have  served  had  Ariadne  not  been  near. 

Perhaps  the  first  suggestion  of  evil  had  been  his  gift 
of  a  little  book,  a  French  translation,  setting  forth  the 
full  history  of  the  nymph  Ariadne. 

The  incident  had  taken  place  at  Nice.  Mr.  Martel 
and  his  valet  had  just  returned  from  one  of  those  myste- 
rious trips  to  Paris  which,  at  that  time,  were  of  frequent 


n6  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

•occurrence.  At  the  ensuing  luncheon  where  Mrs.  Martel, 
.as  was  her  custom  on  such  occasions,  chattered  inces- 
santly of  her  rapture  at  her  husband's  return,  he  had 
drawn  from  his  inner  pocket  a  small  book,  exquisitely 
bound.  Throwing  it  on  the  table  near  his  wife,  he  had 
remarked  carelessly  :  "Here's  a  neat  little  thing  I  picked 
up  on  the  Rue  de  1'Opera." 

Donna  seized  it  eagerly,  thankful  that  the  clear, 
-gold  type  did  not  necessitate  the  adjustment  of  her 
glasses.  "How  sweet  and  kind  of  you,  Connie  darling  ! " 
Then  her  face  fell.  "The  Loves  of  Ariadne,"  she  read 
aloud.  "Then  it's  not  for  me.  You  mean  it  for 
Ariadne." 

"I  would  have  to  get  an  edition  de  luxe  of  the  old 
masters  to  do  justice  to  your  name,  Madonna.  As 
you  surmise,  that  is  intended  for  Ariadne.  I  heard 
her  say,  not  long  ago,  that  she  was  ignorant  of  the  ad- 
ventures of  her  name-nymph.  Ariadne  of  Naxos !  I 
have  always  thought  it  a  most  alluring  sound."  His 
long  eyes,  that  always  held  a  hint  of  mockery  in  the 
blue-green  depths,  smiled  across  the  table. 

Donna,  completely  pacified,  held  out  the  charming 
little  volume. 

"Is  it  really  for  me?"  cried  the  girl,  flushing  with 
pleasure  and  surprise.  Gifts  were  an  unusual  happen- 
ing with  her.  "That  was  very  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Martel. 
I  will  read  it  the  minute  I  have  finished  luncheon." 

"I  am  glad  that  you  like  it  so  much,  my  dear. 
Only—  "  he  added,  with  a  queer,  low  laugh,  "I  must 
warn  you  that  I  do  not  hold  myself  responsible  for  the 
morals  of  your  classic  sister." 

So  Ariadne,  all  impatient  for  the  moment,  had  hurried 
to  her  little  room  to  read.  When  her  cheeks  burned, 
she  angrily  called  herself  a  prude,  a  conventional  young 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  117 

idiot.  Of  course,  as  Mr.  Martel  had  been  thoughtful 
enough  to  state,  the  adventures  of  a  charming,  pagan 
myth  were  not  to  be  taken  personally. 

Nevertheless  she  felt  an  unconquerable  embarrass- 
ment at  the  thought  of  next  meeting  him.  She  dreaded 
the  coming  dinner  hour,  and  when  the  little,  triangular 
party  was  at  last  seated,  went  into  a  small  panic  at  each 
pause,  for  fear  that  now  he  was  going  to  question  her. 

But  the  courses  came  and  went,  and  Martel  made  no 
allusion.  It  was  characteristic  of  his  wife  that  she 
should  already  have  forgotten.  Her  chief  topic,  and 
one  which  evidently  aroused  in  her  the  deepest  excite- 
ment, was  the  approaching  marriage  of  a  certain  Euro- 
pean princess.  Mrs.  Martel  subscribed  to  more  than 
one  court  journal.  She  referred  to  all  members  of 
royalty  by  their  Christian  names,  and  could,  at  any 
moment,  have  passed  a  brilliant  examination  upon 
their  ages,  personal  appearance,  and  intricate  relation- 
ships. 

Neither  at  that  time  nor  afterward  had  Martel  alluded 
to  the  book,  and  while  at  first  the  omission  brought 
to  the  girl  only  a  shy  relief,  she  had  later  begun  to  realize 
that  in  the  man's  mind  his  gift,  and  her  reading  of  it, 
had  established  a  new  and  ineradicable  bond. 

Other  suggestions,  even  more  vague,  had  followed; 
a  clasp  of  the  hand,  less  careless,  in  assisting  her  from 
carriages;  more  frequent  and  direct  appeals  to  her  in 
conversation  which  often,  now,  he  led  into  less  personal 
and  more  interesting  paths,  and  visits  to  picture  galleries 
where  he  would  pause  long  before  certain  canvases, 
most  of  them  representing  subjects  she  had  been  taught 
to  ignore. 

He  began,  with  no  apparent  cause,  to  frequent  con- 
certs, a  whim  unknown  to  their  first  six  years  together, 


n8  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

l 

and  while  Mrs.  Martel  drowsed  happily  at  his  other 
elbow,  would  talk  eagerly  and  often  with  deep  insight 
about  some  marvelous  passage  that  had  just  been 
played.  Sometimes  he  would  refer  to  the  human  ex- 
periences of  great  musicians,  pointing  out  love  as  the 
true  inspiration  of  all  supreme  art.  Each  hint  was  so 
brief,  so  delicately  worded,  that  a  Lady  Abbess  could 
scarcely  have  taken  offense.  It  was  only  in  retrospect, 
in  the  placing  of  one  film  above  the  other  that  the  sum, 
held  up  against  the  clear  light  of  reason,  took  on  a  dark 
and  menacing  outline. 

Once,  driving  home  from  the  opera  when  the  girl  sat, 
as  usual,  on  the  small,  adjustable  taxi-shelf  facing  her 
stepmother,  Mr.  Martel  had  made  some  trivial  excuse 
for  changing  places  with  his  wife.  Ariadne,  still  drowned 
in  harmony,  had  scarcely  noticed  the  move.  It  was 
only  when  a  warm,  lithe,  silken  ankle  brushed  her  own 
that  she  came  to  herself  with  a  start  and  hurriedly 
drew  her  foot  away.  Martel  sat  motionless,  his  face 
turned.  As  their  little  party  descended,  he  did  not 
even  touch  her  hand.  Ariadne,  hot  with  shame  and 
indignation,  tried  to  persuade  herself  that  it  had  not 
been  intended.  Surely  to  no  decent  girl  did  such  things 
happen  by  design !  An  increase  in  kind  indifference  on 
Martel's  part  did  much  to  strengthen  the  desirable 
belief. 

Yet  now  that  she  was  gathering  up  her  disquieting 
evidence,  the  incident  would  not  be  put  aside.  After 
all  was  it,  as  she  had  so  persistently  tried  to  hold,  an 
accident,  or  merely  the  snapping  of  another  twig  in  a 
jungle  ? 

Mr.  Martel,  after  this,  made  only  very  occasional 
trips  to  Paris.  For  six  months  she  had  seen  him  practi- 
cally every  day  and  often  late  into  the  night.  He  and 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  119 

Donna  loved  artificial  hours,  and  the  girl  could  not 
always  find  excuses  for  staying  at  home.  She  noticed,, 
too,  that  he  had  become  more  considerate  of  his  wife, 
bringing  her  small  gifts  and  often  anticipating  her 
pleasures.  Ariadne  sometimes  sickened  under  the  out- 
pourings of  her  stepmother's  fatuous  adulation.  Her 
love  for  the  man  was  an  obsession.  She  shivered  with 
ecstasy  if  he  chanced  to  touch  her.  Her  foolish,  faded 
face  which,  by  now,  had  lost  its  last  youthful  contour 
in  a  mass  of  unhealthy-looking  flesh,  turned  to  his  care- 
less words  as  to  a  sacrament. 

Ariadne  was  forced  to  see  it  all ;  and  as  she  watched, 
she  seemed  to  herself  like  some  hunted  thing  that  cowered 
behind  frail,  intangible  defenses,  while  nearer,  every 
moment,  crept  a  poisonous  night.  Out  there  in  the 
darkness  something  stole  toward  her,  a  something  un- 
named and  terrible,  with  fangs  already  bared  to  strike. 
She  could  not  flee.  All  paths  were  shut  to  her.  She 
did  not  even  know  from  which  direction  the  dread  might 
spring.  Only  it  was  there  —  somewhere  in  this  ghastly 
and  newly-created  universe,  and  its  most  awful  attri- 
bute was  its  very  formlessness. 

Again  the  girl  looked  up,  pressing  cold  fingers  against 
her  throat.  "It  is  not  possible!"  she  moaned.  "No 
girl  should  have  such  fears.  I  will  not  think.  Dear 
Lord,  cleanse  me  from  these  wicked  imaginings  !" 

But  then,  if  all  these  other  fears  were  demon  whispers, 
what  of  that  book  of  poetry  she  found  last  night  upon 
her  pillow  ?  And  the  carnation,  mate  to  one  in  Martel's 
dinner  coat,  whose  hard-pressed  petals  dyed  its  pages  ? 
The  stain  had  pointed  to  verses  which  no  clean-minded 
girl  should  have  been  asked  to  read. 

Beaten  back  now,  helpless  and  faint  before  the  ac- 
cumulated horrors,  Ariadne  drooped  and  for  a  blessed 


120  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

interval  ceased,  in  reality,  to  have  the  power  of  logical 
thought. 

From  the  little  town  behind  her  she  could  hear  the 
sleepy  jangle  of  the  one  street-car,  and  the  clip  of  the 
old  horse's  hoofs  upon  the  cobbles.  She  felt,  rather 
than  saw,  the  deepening  of  the  sunset  glow.  The  air 
was  growing  cooler.  She  was  grateful  for  the  reviving 
freshness,  and  lifting  both  hands,  pushed  back  the  heavy 
locks  of  hair. 

Unnoted  by  her  in  this  tortured  reverie  the  first  little 
river-boat  was  stealing  home.  She  watched  it  now  with 
eagerness.  Silent  as  a  shadow,  it  moved  toward  her 
and  the  leaning  posts  that  ringed  the  little  pier.  Almost 
furtively,  as  if  ashamed  to  be  taking  an  early  advantage 
of  its  comrades,  it  neared  the  pilings,  then  suddenly 
backed  a  little,  like  some  great  water-beetle  with  in- 
visible antennae,  and  reassured,  came  back,  settling 
itself  with  businesslike  deliberation  into  a  chosen 
nook. 

A  small,  shaggy  dog  rushed  to  the  tip  of  the  up-curved 
prow,  and  bracing  his  small  forefeet,  set  up  a  furious 
barking.  The  old  fisherman  at  the  pole  gave  a  gruff, 
Dutch  admonition,  at  which  the  dog,  after  a  sheepish 
glance  as  if  to  see  whether  the  foreign  girl  had  noted 
his  humiliation,  skulked  with  dejected  tail  along  the 
deck  and  appeared  to  fling  himself  into  the  cabin. 

Ariadne  laughed;  then,  startled  at  the  sound,  drew 
herself  up  to  wonder  how  she  had  done  it.  But  the 
question  got  no  farther.  Her  eyes  looked  full  into  the 
sun's  bright  face,  and  before  his  majesty  all  personal 
thought  fell  away. 

Now,  almost  touching  earth,  the  lower  edge  was 
blurring.  Quivering  marsh-mists  seemed  drawn  up  into 
the  sphere,  quenching  its  fire  and  slowly  filling  its 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  121 

smoldering  outline.  It  was  a  great  smoke-bubble, 
like  those  her  father  used  to  blow  for  her  upon  the  hearth 
at  Allan  Water.  Now  it  was  going  to  strike  the  green 
rug  of  the  marshes.  Would  it  break  —  or  flatten  itself 
elastically,  as  those  bubbles  of  her  childhood  used  to  do, 
bounding  disdainfully  aside  before  its  silent  detonation. 

Suddenly  it  was  gone.  Three  bars  of  light  capped 
by  a  yoke  of  living  gold  were  pressed  down  into  purple 
darkness.  The  roses  in  the  sky  turned  ashen,  and  in 
the  throbbing  gloom  one  great  star  took  its  place,  throw- 
ing a  javelin  of  light  upon  the  river.  Ariadne  stared 
hard  at  the  reflection.  The  ripples  broke  and  toyed 
with  it.  There,  just  beyond  the  shortest  piling,  was  the 
spot  where  she  had  hurled  the  insulting  verse.  She 
could  see  it  now,  rocking  upon  the  tide  and  tossing 
defiant  pages,  to  one  of  which  still  clung  the  red 
carnation. 

She  stirred  impatiently  and  turned  her  face  toward 
the  opened  window  as  if  considering  whether  or  not  the 
dim  room  might  prove  a  safer  retreat  from  memory. 
Half  rising,  she  looked  up  and  down  the  several  streams. 
There  was  no  hint  or  sign  of  the  Olivia,  but  now,  from 
all  directions,  dark  shuttles  of  small  craft  moved,  con- 
verging toward  the  pier.  For  all  the  river  boats  were 
hurrying  home  to  bed.  Such  a  sleepy,  childish,  little 
flock  they  were  —  shoving  black  noses  one  against  the 
other,  elbowing  rudely,  each  determined  to  push  past 
the  rest. 

Now  a  whole  covey  wedged  itself  into  a  common 
helplessness,  held  for  an  instant  silent,  as  its  members 
realized  the  small  catastrophe.  Then  such  a  sound  of 
struggle,  such  plunging  of  black  poles,  with  grunts  and 
gratings  and  sharp  whistles,  a  discord  made  more  poign- 
ant by  the  barking  of  rival  dogs.  With  angry  churn- 


122  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

ings  of  the  water,  a  small  steam  tug  detached  itself, 
and  before  the  heavier  boats  could  interfere,  had  rushed 
into  the  wharf  with  a  loud  hoot  of  triumph. 

A  little  farther  out  in  the  stream  a  group  of  white, 
two-storied,  excursion  boats,  each  the  property  of  that 
mysterious  aquatic  potentate,  "Fop  Smit  und  Zoon," 
drew  to  a  decorous  pause  like  big  sisters  at  the  far  end 
of  a  nursery.  Glancing  across  electric  lighted  shoulders 
to  the  squabbling  infant  crew,  they  seemed  to  shrug 
disapprobation,  and  then,  binding  themselves  together 
in  aloofness,  formed  a  white,  brilliant  island  in  the 
Merwede's  center. 

Ariadne  smiled  at  the  quaint,  human  comfort  of  it  all. 
This  had  become  a  favorite  hour  with  her.  As  in  the 
case  of  the  village  children,  she  had  begun  to  know 
many  of  the  little  craft  by  sight  and  name.  Merwede 
was  the  favorite  appellation.  There  were  Merwedes 
I,  and  II,  and  III.  She  had  counted  up  so  far  as 
seven.  Having  herself  become  a  lover  of  the  parent 
river,  she  understood  their  loyalty.  Many  of  the 
other  boats  bore  women's  names,  Lyspeth,  Juliana, 
Betje  and  the  inevitable  Maria;  while  not  a  few  of 
the  others  were  called  after  flowers. 

She  rose  at  last,  and  passing  into  her  room,  turned 
on  the  one  feeble  electric  light  and  saw,  by  her  traveling 
clock,  that  it  was  nearly  nine.  "I  knew  it  was  getting 
late.  I  had  my  dinner  hours  ago,"  she  murmured. 
"They  ought  to  be  bringing  Donna  home,  for  the  night 
air  is  so  bad  for  her  rheumatism."  Yes,  they  would 
soon  be  here. 

The  faint,  sick  feeling  swept  across  her  heart.  She 
drew  a  chair  up  under  the  poor  light  and  tried  to  in- 
terest herself  in  a  recent  American  magazine  that  Mrs. 
Martel  had  finished  and  passed  on  to  her.  The  date 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  123 

was  a  little  old;  all  of  their  magazines  were  old,  but 
that  made  no  difference,  as  these  readers  were  already 
so  entirely  out  of  touch  with  anything  at  home  that  it 
was  like  being  interested  in  the  affairs  of  a  separate 
planet. 

The  first  story  that  she  opened  began  with  the  words : 
"All  day  the  Winston  children  had  been  out  gathering 
chinquepins."  She  shut  it  together  with  a  snap.  Chin- 
quepins !  At  that  moment  the  prickly,  green  burrs 
were  swelling  on  the  Virginia  hillsides.  How  many 
happy  times  in  her  own  lost  childhood  had  she  gathered 
them.  She  lifted  her  hand  as  in  a  dream,  moving  slow 
fingers  as  though  to  feel  a  something  against  her  throat. 
So  many,  many  times  there  had  swung  from  it  a  long, 
brown  rosary  of  chinquepins,  strung  for  her  by  Anguish. 
The  very  taste  of  the  hard,  sweet  kernels  grew  on  her 
tongue.  No,  the  brown,  autumn  necklet  was  not  there ; 
her  fingers  closed  only  about  the  usual  little  chain  of 
silver,  a  mere  gleaming  thread,  from  which  hung  the 
half  of  a  broken  coin. 

She  opened  the  magazine  once  more  and  this  time 
warily,  as  if  in  fear  that  a  memory,  too  keen,  would 
spring  from  it.  On  the  following  page  was  an  illustration 
of  an  old  Virginia  homestead.  It  might  have  been 
Allan  Water.  She  sprang  up  with  a  sob,  letting  the 
pamphlet  fall.  She  could  not  read  that  story- — not 
to-night ! 

Hastily  darkening  the  room,  she  went  again  upon  the 
balcony.  Her  eyes,  fixed  on  the  purple  silence,  saw  at 
first  only  the  one  great  star.  Slowly  the  earthly  outlines 
grew  familiar,  the  straight  marsh-banks  holding  in 
darker  rivers,  and  the  boats  now  all  asleep.  But  very 
close  to  her,  almost  beneath  her  feet,  a  dim,  yellow 
« radiance  set  in  the  heart  of  a  huge,  pointed  shadow, 


124  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

had  nearly  touched  the  pier.  She  knew  it  was  not  the 
Olivia,  for  that  always  anchored  farther  out.  It  was  a 
last,  belated  boat,  seeking  a  place  to  rest. 

She  could  see  it  now  quite  plainly.  The  master,  tall 
and  with  a  quick  grace  of  motion  that  betrayed  his 
youth,  leaned  far  out  and  tethered  his  little  home  in 
silence.  Immediately  the  tide  swung  it  sidewise,  so 
that  through  the  squat  -cabin's  opened  doorway  could 
be  seen  a  young  Dutch  mother  nursing  her  child.  Over 
her  hung  the  small  oil-lamp,  whose  glow  Ariadne  had 
first  seen ;  but  on  the  sweet,  homely  face  another  and 
more  beautiful  light  was  resting.  Something  warm 
and  tremulous  rose  to  the  watcher's  throat.  The  young 
fisherman  went  down  softly  into  the  cabin.  He  leaned 
over,  putting  a  hand  upon  the  sleeping  babe,  and  his 
wife  raised  smiling  eyes  to  him. 

All  at  once  the  scene  was  blotted  out  in  tears.  The 
girl  felt  that  she  could  have  fallen  to  the  feet  of  that 
humble,  holy  family.  Again  she  put  her  hand  to  her 
throat,  this  time  to  check  its  throbbing.  Her  hand 
closed  on  the  coin.  "Randy,  Randy,"  she  whispered. 
"Have  you  forgotten?" 

The  light  in  the  cabin  suddenly  went  dark.  She 
heard  the  rude  door  fastened.  Clutching  the  railings 
fiercely,  she  stared  across  the  water,  terrified  by  her 
own  emotions.  Why  had  she  thought,  just  then,  of 
Randy  ?  Why  had  she  called  his  name  ?  It  was  years 
since  she  had  heard  from  him.  Just  after  Donna's 
second  marriage  he  had  sent  a  letter  so  filled  with  in- 
vective against  the  stepmother  and  the  "Levantine 
Mixture"  she  had  chosen,  so  passionate  and  unrestrained 
in  argument  that  Ariadne  should  ignore  her  father's 
will  and  refuse  to  associate  her  life  with  "unnatural  and 
immoral  vagabonds  whom  no  decent  man  —  or  woman 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  125 

either  —  should  ever  tolerate,"  that  the  girl  felt  a  reply 
impossible. 

Since  then  no  word  had  come.  She  learned  through 
Cousin  Nellie's  infrequent  and  always  hasty  letters 
that  he  had  carried  out  his  plan  of  going  to  New  York 
and  had  recently  been  made  junior  partner  in  a  promi- 
nent law  firm.  But  all  this  gave  no  answer  to  the  startled 
query :  Why  had  his  name  risen  involuntarily,  that 
moment,  to  her  lips  ? 

Even  in  the  cool,  night  air  her  cheeks  were  like  fire. 
"Oh!"  she  cried  out,  in  desperate  self-explanation. 
"It  is  because  he  is  clean,  and  good,  and  honest.  A 
girl  whom  he  loved  would  be  proud  of  it.  Because  he 
is  my  friend  and  said  to  me:  'If  ever  you  need  me,  I 
will  come.'" 

And  now  she  needed  him.  More  than  ever  before 
in  all  her  life  she  starved  and  suffered  for  such  friendship, 
but  now,  as  always,  she  could  not  summon  him.  Donna 
and  her  promise  to  a  dying  father  stood  between.  Even 
had  she  not  been  so  restricted  would  it  be  possible,  at 
this  late  day,  to  claim  his  fealty  ?  It  was  a  boy  who  had 
so  earnestly  declared:  "No  matter  how  old  we  are,  or 
how  many  miles  apart,  I'll  come." 

Life,  in  his  chosen  groove,  could  not  have  used  him 
hardly.  Other  gifts  had  probably  been  showered  upon 
him.  Perhaps  even  now,  in  the  twilight,  there  was 
some  one  near  him  with  upraised  eyes,  happy  as  the 
little  Dutch  wife  yonder !  The  girl  stirred  wretchedly. 
She  felt  the  knife  as  it  rent  the  cherry-tree.  Her  head 
went  down  in  humiliation,  and  she  longed  consciously 
that  the  dark,  cool  waters  of  the  Merwede  could  close 
above  it. 

The  swift  panting  of  a  gasoline  launch  and  the  sound 
of  distant  laughter  from  the  river  brought  her  thoughts 


126  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

back  with  a  shock.  The  Olivia  had  returned.  With 
her  long,  white  flanks  and  lifted  prow  she  seemed  a 
sort  of  greyhound  of  the  deep.  The  launch  drove  like 
an  arrow  toward  the  shore.  The  girl  rose  like  a  hunted 
thing,  and  again  entering  her  room,  threw  herself  face- 
down upon  the  bed,  and  lay  there  in  darkness,  quivering, 
until  she  heard  Donna,  puffing  and  chattering,  begin 
the  ascent  of  the  hotel  stairs. 

"Ariad-nee  !"  came  the  high,  thin  voice. 

Ariadne  rose  and  dragged  herself  toward  her  step- 
mother's apartments.  Just  as  she  entered,  that  ex- 
hausted lady  had  fallen,  rather  than  seated  herself, 
upon  the  nearest  cushioned  chair.  Martel,  a  dark 
shadow  at  which  the  girl  did  not  look,  stood  somewhere 
near. 

"Well,  I  am  tired!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Martel.  "I'm 
just  about  ready  to  collapse.  But  we  have  had  the 
most  wonderful  day,  haven't  we,  Connie?" 

As  Connie  did  not  answer,  she  hurried  on  as  well  as 
she  could  for  gasping.  "You  certainly  missed  it  by 
staying  away,  Ariadne.  You  would  have  loved  the 
sunset.  But,  after  all  -  "  here  she  laughed  consciously. 
"It  was  a  rather  highly  seasoned  party  for  a  girl.  I 
never  drank  such  champagne  in  all  my  life,  and  Sir 
Hedworth  took  good  care  that  our  glasses  should  not 
stand  empty.  I  am  afraid  we  all  had  a  little  more 
than  we  should,  —  even  Connie,  bad  boy  that  he  is!" 
She  turned  to  shake  a  playful  finger  at  her  husband. 
"It  was  Lady  Lamson  who  insisted  he  should  drink. 
The  creature  actually  made  love  to  him  under  my  very 
nose.  And  Connie  is  generally  so  abstemious  ! " 

The  silhouette  of  Martel's  figure  appeared  to  sway  a 
very  little.  Reaching  out,  he  found  a  chair  which  he 
drew  up  just  behind  that  of  his  wife.  Donna  began  to 


127 

unfasten  her  collar  at  the  back.  Her  hand  was  evi- 
dently unsteady. 

" Where  is  that  Cummins?"  she  questioned  fretfully. 

" Shall  I  try  to  find  her  for  you?"  asked  the  girl, 
thankful  for  the  opportunity  to  escape. 

"Yes,  dear,  if  you  will." 

Martel  rose  also.  Ariadne  drew  back.  She  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  his  face,  which  instead  of  showing 
its  usual  cool  pallor  was  flushed  to  a  dull  red.  His 
eyes  were  strangely  unsteady.  They  moved  swiftly 
from  side  to  side  like  those  of  a  pinioned  snake.  She 
determined  not  to  pass  out  into  the  corridor  with  him 
and  now  waited  to  see  what  his  next  move  would  be. 

Continuing  to  ignore  her,  he  leaned  down  to  his  wife. 
"I  do  feel  a  bit  heady  after  all  that  wine,"  his  soft  voice 
told  her.  "I  think  I  had  better  take  a  turn  in  the  fresh 
air." 

"Yes,  darling.  You'll  sleep  better  for  it,  I  know," 
she  encouraged,  tenderly.  As  he  went,  her  pale,  adoring 
eyes  followed  him.  She  drew  an  enormous,  lingering 
sigh,  whether  of  love  or  fatigue  Ariadne  did  not  try  to 
guess. 

When  Cummins  was  discovered  flirting  under  the 
hotel  arch  with  the  Dutch  car-driver  and  sent  up  to 
her  mistress,  Ariadne  again  sought  the  shelter  of  her 
little  room.  Sleep  was,  for  the  moment,  impossible. 
Without  turning  on  the  light,  she  stole  softly  to  the 
balcony.  At  first  she  moved  with  caution,  peering  down 
into  the  street  to  see  whether  Martel  had  gone  out  to 
the  pier.  There  was  no  human  figure,  only  the  gaunt, 
leaning  piles  and  the  tethered  flock  of  sleeping  boats. 

The  peace  of  the  starry  night  was  hers  once  more. 
From  along  the  balcony  came  Donna's  tired,  carping 
voice,  giving  directions  to  her  maid.  The  girl  tried 


128  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

not  to  listen.  Resting  one  arm  along  the  balcony  rail, 
she  bent  her  head  to  it,  and  then  curving  the  other  arm 
laid  it  against  her  ear,  so  that  the  soft  flesh  dulled  her 
sense  of  hearing.  She  did  not  try  to  think  now  or  to 
struggle  against  her  terrors.  She  knew  that  she  was 
afraid,  utterly,  unspeakably,  impotently  afraid,  and  the 
sight  of  that  drunken  face  had  made  the  horror  tangible. 
When  she  was  not  so  tired  and  cowering,  she  would  plan 
a  way  to  go  off  to  herself,  if  only  for  a  week.  The  prom- 
ise to  her  father  did  not  preclude  an  occasional  ab- 
sence. Perhaps  she  could  even  get  home  for  a  little 
visit  to  Virginia.  At  this  her  courage  rose.  Yes,  she 
would  demand  it.  The  strain  had  become  too  great  to 
endure  without  a  respite.  She  would  talk  to  Donna  the 
first  thing  next  morning.  Her  nerves  and  these  spells 
of  faintness  would  serve  for  an  excuse. 

Feeling  at  last  comforted,  and  believing  that  she  could 
now  find  rest,  she  was  about  to  lift  her  head  when  a 
shiver,  running  along  the  veranda  floor,  made  her 
start  up  quickly. 

A  man's  figure  was  stealing  toward  her,  finding  its 
way  by  the  outstretched  fingers  of  a  hand  against  the 
wall. 

He  had  just  passed  Donna's  closed  shutters  and 
advanced  now  with  a  panther-like  celerity. 

The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  seeing  that  he  had 
already  blocked  the  entrance  to  her  room,  stood  at  bay. 
Her  first  thought  was:  "No  matter  what  his  wicked- 
ness, or  how  drunk  he  may  be,  he  cannot  really  harm 
me  here."  She  braced  herself  tightly  in  the  corner  of 
the  balcony,  her  hands,  at  each  side,  fastening  upon  the 
iron  railings. 

Martel  caught  with  such  unexpected  strength  and 
suddenness  at  one  of  them  that  her  hold  was  torn  away. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  129 

He  grasped  her  wrist  in  metal  fingers,  then  tried  to  gain 
the  other  hand.  This  she  kept  fast  as  though  it  had 
become  part  of  the  old  wrought  iron.  Now  he  bent 
down  his  face.  The  feverish  breath,  heavy  with  alcohol, 
poured  full  upon  her.  She  heard  the  whispered  triumph  : 

"Oh,  my  Ariadne  —  mine  at  last!  It  is  your  vine- 
wreathed  Bacchus  who  pursues  you.  Don't  turn  from 
me.  Give  me  your  lips  —  your  young  lips  —  Ariadne 
of  Naxos  !" 

She  did  not  try  to  speak.  In  his  drunken  eagerness 
it  was  not  difficult  to  elude  the  intended  caresses.  Her 
mind  grew  sharp  and  clear.  It  told  her  that  she  must 
not  make  a  sound  that  might  bring  Donna  to  the  win- 
dow. From  the  first  hideous  instant  she  had  realized 
that  she  must  strike  the  man,  but  even  now,  in  the  crux 
of  it,  caution  whispered  that  it  must  not  be  his  face. 
Unseen  by  him  she  moved  her  left  hand  from  the  railing, 
sending  it,  by  stealthy  inches,  toward  the  chair.  The 
back  of  this  she  grasped  that  it  might  not  fall  and  clatter 
upon  the  floor.  Then,  gathering  the  full  strength  of  her 
healthy,  lithe,  young  body,  she  freed  the  other  hand 
and  with  it  struck  him  full  upon  the  heart.  He  reeled 
back,  clutching  at  his  breast  in  agony.  Like  herself, 
he  had  given  no  cry.  Slowly,  without  effect  of  haste 
or  agitation,  she  now  walked  past  him,  and  entering 
her  room,  bolted  the  heavy  blinds. 

In  the  morning  Cummins,  entering  with  tea,  informed 
her  that  Mr.  Martel  and  Francois  had  left  by  an  early 
train  for  Paris,  and  that  "Madame  had  took  on  some- 
thing dreadful." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  little  portier,  patron  saint  and  referee  for  half 
the  migratory  denizens  of  earth,  stood  in  the  doorway 
of  his  castle,  or,  to  be  more  accurate  and  less  grandilo- 
quent, at  the  entrance  of  the  famous  Hotel  Vieux  Doelen 
at  the  Hague.  The  granite  doorstone  on  a  level  with 
the  small-bricked  pavement  had  been  worn  to  a  hollow, 
most  inconvenient  for  holding  rain,  but  becoming  thereby 
a  boon  to  thirsty  dogs. 

Before  him  spread  the  great,  tree-set  Tournooiveld, 
once  the  open  playground  of  a  brotherhood  of  gay 
knights,  who  here  held  jousts  and  shot  at  painted  "Doe- 
len" targets,  retiring  after  the  sport,  to  drink  and  loiter 
in  the  spacious  Doelen-haus,  passing,  a  rustling,  silken, 
merry  company,  through  this  same  door  where  now  a 
solitary  figure  seemed  keeping  watch. 

In  spite  of  the  wrinkles  about  his  kind  old  eyes,  and 
the  gray  hair  which  stuck  out  thinly  like  iron  filings 
from  a  highly  magnetized  egg,  the  portier,  in  these  sur- 
roundings, had  an  air  of  modernness  and  youth.  To 
himself  he  was  very  old.  For  nearly  fifty  years,  as  he 
will  tell  you  if  he  ever  gets  a  chance,  he  had  been  part 
of  the  old  Doelen;  first  as  an  apple-cheeked  page-boy, 
and  afterwards,  through  gradual  stages,  to  the  all- 
powerful  eminence  of  portier.  He  could  speak  a  little 
of  all  languages  and  in  each  understood  much  more 
than  it  was  sometimes  prudent  to  admit.  In  spite  of 
his  small,  Dutch  cottage  with  a  red-bricked  courtyard, 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  131 

which  Peter  de  Hooch  surely  must  have  seen,  in  spite 
of  the  fat  Dutch  "Vrouw,"  his  wife,  and  the  little  or- 
phaned grandchild  who  was  the  core  of  their  united 
hearts,  the  little  portier  felt  that  the  big  hotel  was  more 
fundamentally  his  home. 

Near  his  feet  lolled  his  inseparable  companion,  a 
whitish,  amorphous,  female  dog  of  a  breed  so  indeter- 
minate that  all  the  canine  strains  of  Europe  must  have 
met,  somehow,  in  her  small,  overfed  body.  The  May 
sun  felt  good  to  her.  Sometimes  she  rolled  over  slowly, 
at  which  her  master  half  unconsciously  put  out  a  pudgy 
foot,  pressing  down  the  well-covered  ribs  gently  and 
murmuring  some  Dutch  endearment. 

The  old  man's  pleasant  wrinkles  suddenly  converged. 
Through  the  trunks  of  the  lindens  he  had  caught  sight 
of  the  hurrying  figure  of  a  girl  in  a  long,  gray  coat.  Her 
soft  walking  hat  was  of  the  same  color,  and  had  for  orna- 
ment two  long  quills,  one  blue,  the  other  of  a  glowing 
orange,  thrust  through  the  upturned  brim.  On  seeing 
him  she  smiled  and  waved  a  dull  red  paper  parcel.  Her 
other  hand  held  lilies  of  the  valley. 

"Has  Mrs.  Martel  asked  for  me?"  was  her  first  eager 
question. 

"Nay,  mademoiselle,  I  t'ink  not  so.  De  Engleech 
maid  go  for  a  small  walk  after  de  luncheon  and  tell  me 
she  will  coom  back  at  five  o'clock  to  fetch  Madame's 
tea.  Until  den,  Madame  iss  not  to  be  disturb'." 

"It  must  be  getting  toward  five  now,"  conjectured 
the  girl.  "The  sun  is  already  tossing  about  in  the 
linden  boughs.  I  stayed  away  longer  than  1^  expected, 
but  I  just  couldn't  leave  that  fascinating  little  bazaar 
on  the  Lange  Pooten !  See,  here  is  something  that  I 
have  bought." 

She  gave  him  her  lilies  to  hold,  and  bending  over, 


i32  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

her  cheeks  flushed  by  shyness  rather  than  with  the  in- 
tricacies of  Dutch  knots,  unfastened  her  parcel  and 
disclosed  a  doll  brilliantly  dressed  in  complete  native 
costume,  even  to  the  wooden  sabots  and  a  copper  milk- 
pail  on  each  arm. 

"There!"  she  exclaimed,  holding  it  up  for  him  to 
admire.  " Isn't  she  a  darling?  I  got  it  for  Betje. 
Will  you  take  it  to  her  with  Miss  Skipwith's  love?" 

The  little  portier  looked  as  if  he  were  going  to  cry. 
"But,  Mademoiselle,"  he  stammered,  "it  is  too  gran', 
too  splendide,  for  a  small  meisje  of  de  peoples,  such  as 
my  gran'daughter !" 

"Nothing  could  be  too  pretty  for  Betje!"  asserted 
the  girl,  laughing  at  his  pleasure  and  her  own.  "She 
is  the  dearest,  gentlest,  little  thing !  I  want  you  to 
bring  her  to  see  me  again,  please.  She  is  getting  over 
her  timidity  with  me.  And  look!"  Once  more  she 
bent  to  the  package,  drawing  forth  this  time  a  gaudy, 
illustrated  primer.  "This  is  for  Betje  to  begin  giving 
me  the  promised  lessons  in  Dutch." 

"Your  heart,  like  to  de  face  of  you,  is  an  angel,  Made- 
moiselle," choked  the  old  man.  "  Ya,  she  shall  be  brung ; 
wid  de  bes'  sabot  cap  upon,  and  in  her  arms  de  beauteous 
poppen.  An'  vill  she  be  happy !  Ah,  Mademoiselle, 
you  vould  haf  to  be  born  de  Dutch  kind  to  know  how 
happy!" 

"I  would  like  to  sit  right  down  here  under  the  trees 
and  play  with  that  poppen  myself,"  confessed  Ariadne 
with  a  shy  laugh.  "I  have  never  got  over  wanting  to. 
I  don't  like  to  be  grown  up.  But  I  am  !"  She  gave  a 
little  sigh  of  exaggerated  regret,  while  her  eyes  still 
sparkled. 

"That  makes  me  think !  Is  there  no  letter  for  me 
yet,  portier?" 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  133 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  He  longed  for  a  ple- 
thoric bag  of  them  to  offer.  "Nay,"  he  said  mourn- 
fully, "not  even  one ;  an'  de  next  post,  he  is  of  morning." 

Stifling  a  sigh  which  this  time  would  have  been  gen- 
uine, she  mounted  the  two  flights  of  stairs  somewhat 
pensively.  She  did  not  doubt  for  an  instant  that 
grandma  had  remembered.  This  would  not  be  the 
first  of  her  itinerant  birthdays  on  which  the  distant 
home  greetings  had  been  late. 

Pausing  at  her  stepmother's  door,  she  listened  for  a 
sound.  All  was  quiet  as  a  crypt.  Mounting  a  third 
flight,  narrow  and  ridiculously  steep,  she  gained  her 
own  small  chamber.  This  was  at  the  very  top  of  the 
old-fashioned  edifice  and  formed  one  of  a  series  called 
somewhat  ignominiously,  the  "Maids'  Row."  Cum- 
mins occupied  a  similar  apartment  at  the  other  end  of 
the  corridor. 

When  Mrs.  Martel  two  weeks  before,  the  day,  in 
fact,  after  her  husband's  hasty  departure  from  Dor- 
drecht, had  moved  on  to  the  Hague,  this  was  the  only 
sleeping  place  available.  Having  once  unpacked  her 
few  personal  effects  and  become  accustomed  to  the  tiny 
room,  Ariadne  found  herself  reluctant  to  leave  it,  even 
for  a  more  desirable  chamber. 

She  liked  the  one  square  window  with  its  jutting  sill, 
and  the  outlook  across  the  wide  Tournooiveld.  In 
Dort  she  had  watched  the  ebb  and  flow  of  liquid  tides, 
and  from  this  new  eyrie  she  could  follow  the  whole  life 
of  a  city  as  it  drifted  by.  Noisy  tram-cars  clanged  and 
whizzed  among  the  rigid  tree-trunks.  A  string  of 
rusty,  antiquated  landaus  that  pinioned  dejected  horses 
stood  in  an  unbroken  line  toward  the  center  of  the  space. 
Apparently  they  were  never  employed,  and  yet  from 
dawn  until  late  into  the  night  they  formed  a  hopeless 


i34  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

battle-front  against  taxicabs  and  despair.  Flower  ped- 
dlers and  small  milk-carts,  often  drawn  by  dogs,  stationed 
themselves  in  the  shadows  of  the  lindens.  Through 
wind-swayed  branches  the  girl  could  see  the  unpreten- 
tious fagade  of  the  Queen-mother's  city  home,  differen- 
tiated from  its  sober  colleagues  only  by  a  pair  of  little 
soldiers,  each  with  his  absurd  small  pepper-box  of  a 
sentry-house  to  which  he  was  privileged  to  retire  in  case 
of  rain. 

There  were  statues  in  the  square,  bronze  blotches 
held  up  high  on  granite  pedestals.  No  one  ever  seemed 
to  look  at  them,  not  even  on  market  days  when  each 
cliff-like  base  rose  from  a  new-spilled  sea  of  red  gera- 
niums. One  little  pot  of  the  scarlet  flamers  now  stood 
in  Ariadne's  window. 

The  girl  threw  her  hat  on  to  the  bed  and  dropped  her 
coat  on  the  nearest  chair,  from  which  immediately  it 
needed  to  be  removed. 

There  was  but  one  chair  in  the  room,  and  Ariadne 
now  required  it  for  a  window-seat.  She  drew  it  up  and 
looked  out  with  eyes  which  were,  at  first,  unobservant. 
A  little  calendar  hung  on  the  wall  near  by. 

"The  twenty-second  of  May,  and  I  am  twenty-two," 
her  lips  murmured.  The  words  had  become  a  sort  of 
dolorous  refrain.  That  morning,  on  first  waking,  she 
had  smiled  at  a  childish,  fluttering  hope  that  somehow 
would  not  be  denied.  There  seemed  a  mystic  signifi- 
cance in  the  repeated  number.  Surely  something  good 
must  come  to  her  on  such  a  day.  But  the  sun  which 
had  risen  gloriously  would  soon  go  down  behind  the 
lowest  of  the  staid,  Dutch  houses  opposite,  then  a  few 
hours  of  deepening  twilight,  and  then  the  dark.  Noth- 
ing had  happened,  unless  she  were  to  count  as  fortune's 
gift  the  continued  absence  of  Mr.  Martel. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  135 

Earlier  in  the  day  her  stepmother  had  received  a 
letter  from  him,  one  so  disturbing  that  the  nervous 
headache  had  been  a  direct  result.  There  had  been 
something  about  a  pressing  demand  for  money.  He 
had  met  with  losses.  All  financial  matters  being  an 
unknown  language  to  the  girl,  she  had  not  been  able  to 
affect  any  special  interest.  The  words  that  brought 
her  personal  alarm  were  these:  "You  may  expect  me 
to  join  you  now  at  a  few  hours'  notice." 

Before  he  came,  she  must  force  herself  to  speak  with 
Donna  about  her  own  affairs.  The  desire  for  a  few 
weeks  of  freedom,  which  became  a  conscious  thought  at 
Dort,  had  grown  since  into  a  passion  of  longing.  How 
could  she  face  Martel  so  soon  and  take  up  the  old  desul- 
tory life  as  if  nothing  terrible  had  happened  ? 

Cummins  stood  primly  in  the  doorway. 

"Madame's  compliments,  Miss  Skipwith,  and  would 
you  care  to  'ave  tea  with  'er  in  'er  sitting-room  ?  " 

Ariadne  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  face  brightening. 
"So  she  is  up  !  I'm  very  glad.  Of  course  I  will  come 
at  once."  She  caught  up  the  lilies-of-the-valley,  drying 
the  water  from  their  succulent  stems.  "Does  the 
headache  seem  quite  gone,  Cummins?" 

"So  Madame  says,"  answered  the  woman  doubt- 
fully. "But  in  my  h'eyes  she  looks  bad.  There  is 
something  more  the  matter  than  'eadache,  I'm  thinking." 

"I  do  wish  we  could  persuade  her  to  see  a  doctor," 
frowned  the  girl  and  then,  not  waiting  for  a  reply, 
went  past  the  maid  and  down  to  Donna's  sitting-room. 

Mrs.  Martel  was  seated  in  a  crimson  velvet  armchair 
near  a  window.  Her  lounging  robe  of  mauve  crepe 
turned  the  pallor  of  her  face  to  a  ghastly  yellow. 

"Oh,  I  am  all  right  again,"  she  asserted,  in  response 
to  her  stepdaughter's  inquiries.  "Those  powders  and 


136  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

the  long  nap  have  driven  the  worst  of  the  pain  away. 
My  eyes  still  feel  a  little  heavy.  Will  you  sit  over 
there  and  pour  the  tea?" 

"Here  are  some  flowers  I  have  brought,"  said  Ariadne, 
offering  them  a  little  timidly.  "I  know  they  are  your 
favorites." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Martel,  accepting  the  gift 
without  effusion.  "  Get  some  sort  of  a  vase  —  that 
drinking  glass  will  do  —  and  don't  set  them  down  too 
close  to  me." 

"Yes,  they  are  my  favorites,"  she  vouchsafed  later, 
gazing  moodily  across  the  room  at  them.  "They  always 
make  me  think  of  tears  —  a  woman's  tears." 

Ariadne  achieved  a  soothing  murmur  as  she  took  her 
place  at  the  tea-table.  Having  heard  this  lachrymose 
comparison  many  scores  of  times  before,  she  was  unable, 
at  short  notice,  to  offer  a  more  satisfactory  response. 

"I  bought  them  from  a  poor  old  blind  man  in  that 
long  arcade  that  leads  from  the  Veenstraat.  You 
know  —  the  one  that  bends  in  the  middle  and  has  such 
pretty  shops." 

"I  can't  remember  these  Dutch  places,"  said  Donna 
fretfully.  "But  it  was  sweet  of  you  to  bring  them. 
Any  token  of  affection  is  especially  grateful  to  me  to- 
day. This  letter  of  Connie's  has  nearly  driven  me 
mad." 

"I  am  sorry.  I  hope  I  haven't  made  your  tea  too 
sweet,"  murmured  the  girl,  rising  to  place  the  cup  at 
Mrs.  Martel's  elbow. 

"What  on  earth  can  he  want  with  twenty  thousand 
dollars  all  at  once?" 

Ariadne  wished  to  appear  sympathetic,  but  there 
seemed  nothing  that  she  could  say. 

"Oh,  well,"  sighed  the  other,  "there's  nothing  for  it 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  137 

but  to  do  as  he  suggests  and  write  an  urgent  letter  to 
Judge  Henry.  Not  that  I  believe  it  will  do  any  good 
-the  old  skinflint!" 

"You  have  no  right  to  speak  that  way  of  Cousin 
Judge,  Donna,"  cried  the  girl.  "He  is  the  most  gener- 
ous, upright  man  possible.  I  have  heard  you  say  more 
than  once  that  he  is  sending  you  bigger  payments  all 
the  time." 

"That's  because  he  can't  help  himself,"  retorted 
Mrs.  Martel.  "The  income  is  mostly  from  those  mines, 
and  they  were  as  much  Mr.  Skipwith's  as  his.  He 
wouldn't  dare  keep  back  any  of  my  half  !" 

Ariadne  swallowed  her  tea  hastily.  It  had  a  bitter 
taste.  She  knew  that  her  stepmother's  accusations 
were  unfounded  and  unjust,  but  had  no  argument  with 
which  to  combat  them. 

Mrs.  Martel  watched  the  changing  expressions.  At 
first  her  own  discontented  eyes  expressed  merely  petu- 
lance, but  slowly  there  crept  into  them  a  look  of  cunning. 

"I  suppose  if  I  do  decide  to  write,"  she  began,  and 
as  she  spoke  she  folded  a  thin  slice  of  bread  together  so 
that  the  buttered  surfaces  would  stick,  "you  are  willing 
to  sign  your  name  along  with  mine?" 

The  girl's  astonishment  was  obvious.  "How  could 
my  name  help?  I  don't  know  anything  about  your 
income,  not  even  when  you  get  it !" 

"And  quite  properly,  too,"  affirmed  the  elder  woman, 
"a  child  like  you  !"  For  all  her  confidence,  Mrs.  Martel 
was  annoyed  to  feel  that  she  was  reddening. 

Ariadne  fixed  clear  and  quiet  eyes  upon  her.  "I 
am  not  a  child,  Donna,  even  though  you  still  call  me 
one.  Long  before  my  age  my  young  mother  was  a 
married  woman,  and  I  was  a  baby  more  than  a  year 
old.  I  am  twenty-two  this  day." 


138  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Mrs.  Martel  emitted  a  sound  of  shocked  surprise. 
"Is  this  your  birthday!  Why,  of  course.  I  can't  tell 
you  how  sorry  I  am  that  I  forgot  it,  Ariadne.  If  it 
hadn't  been  that  I  was  beside  myself  over  this  letter  —  ! " 
She  lifted  to  view,  in  demonstration,  the  open  page  that 
had  been  hidden  hi  the  folds  of  her  purple  robe.  "Never 
mind,  I'll  get  you  something  really  handsome  in  the 
morning  —  the  very  first  thing  ! " 

"That  is  kind,  but  please  don't  bother,"  Ariadne 
said  gently;  "I  have  more  pretty  clothes  and  orna- 
ments now  than  I  can  wear.  But,  Donna,  if  you  really 
are  sorry,  if  you  want  to  make  me  very,  very  happy  — 
She  broke  off,  frightened  by  the  imminence  of  the  hazard. 
Already  she  could  see  how  Donna  shrank  and  put  up  her 
defense. 

"Something,"  the  low  voice  hurried  on,  "that  would 
give  me  more  happiness  than  anything  else  on  earth  — 

"Well,  let  us  have  it!"  challenged  the  stepmother 
sharply. 

"It  is  to  make  a  little  visit  somewhere  by  myself  — 
maybe  as  far  as  Virginia.  I  have  been  dreadfully  home- 
sick of  late  and  — 

"You  want  to  go  away  from  me  and  Connie  !"  the 
other  struck  in,  as  if  doubting  her  own  sense  of  hearing. 

"Only  for  a  few  weeks.  I  shall  come  back.  My 
absence  will  not  make  any  difference  in  —  in  —  busi- 
ness," the  girl  finished  despairingly. 

"It  is  simply  not  to  be  thought  of  !"  ejaculated  Mrs. 
Martel,  turning  down  a  metaphorical  thumb.  "I  am 
surprised  that  you  should  be  unkind  enough  to  suggest 
it,  when  you  see  that  I  am  worried  to  death  already. 
Why,  such  a  trip  would  take  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
dollars !  Please  don't  distress  me  by  referring  to  it 
again." 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  139 

Ariadne  sat  silent.  It  had  been  a  feeble  little  flame 
at  best.  Now  she  could  feel  it  sinking,  dying  within  her 
heart. 

The  elder  woman  strove  for  an  air  of  virtuous  indigna- 
tion. Her  stout  shoulders  moved  restlessly  from  side 
to  side. 

"It  isn't  the  money  only,"  she  compromised,  after 
an  arid  pause,  "but  I  don't  think  that  you  should  be 
willing  to  leave  me  when  you  know  that  I  am  not  well. 
I  have  suffered  to-day  not  only  with  a  headache,  but 
that  other  thing  I  told  you  about."  There  was  a  quiver 
of  self-pity  in  the  thin  voice. 

Ariadne  lifted  her  face  from  an  altar  on  which  the  last 
spark  had  died. 

"I  can  be  of  no  help  to  you  even  in  this,  Donna,"  she 
said  wearily;  "you  will  not  listen  when  I  urge  the  only 
thing  to  do." 

"No,  I  don't  intend  to  have  any  of  these  foreign 
men  who  call  themselves  doctors  poking  over  me.  Con- 
nie says  they  are  all  a  set  of  frauds.  Please  dress  to- 
night, Ariadne.  I  am  going  down  to  dine.  These 
private  meals  without  Connie  are  too  dreadful !" 

"I  will  be  ready  at  eight,"  agreed  the  girl  in  a  lifeless 
voice.  She  rose,  moving  slowly,  as  if  vitality  and  even 
youth  had  fled  from  her  young  limbs.  In  passing  her 
stepmother  she  paused.  Donna,  still  fidgeting,  kept 
her  eyes  among  the  tea-things.  Inwardly  she  cowered, 
for  she  was  not,  integrally,  a  valiant  soul.  When 
Ariadne  spoke,  it  seemed  to  be  from  far  away. 

"I  think  —  that  in  all  the  years  we  have  been  to- 
gether, this  is  the  first  thing  I  have  ever  asked  of  you, 
Madonna." 

When  she  had  gone  the  elder  woman  leaned  back 
defiantly.  A  thousand  justifications  and  resentments 


140  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

rose  to  her  mind.  Ariadne  had  been  strangely  incon- 
siderate, even  cruel.  This  was  the  girl's  return  for  all 
the  stepmother's  devotion,  for  the  money  lavished  on  her 
clothes.  Desperately  she  swung  the  flagellating  phrases. 
Across  the  room  stole  the  faint  perfume  of  the  lilies. 
Mrs.  MartePs  face  suddenly  went  down.  The  little 
that  was  real  in  her  knew  she  had  bruised  a  flower  —  and 
was  ashamed. 

More  than  an  hour  before  she  needed  to  dress,  Ariadne 
was  thinking,  as  she  looked  at  the  traveling  clock  upon 
her  quaint  Dutch  mantel  shelf.  "Well,  I  am  glad. 
Perhaps  after  a  rest  I  shall  not  feel  quite  so  miserable." 

Now  she  removed  the  street  dress  and  took  down  the 
long,  heavy  hair.  Again  she  went  to  the  window. 
The  big  square  had  grown  quiet.  The  Dutch  dined 
early.  The  leaves  of  the  lindens,  moving  softly,  made 
a  subtle  rhythm  in  the  wind.  White  clouds,  gilded 
from  underneath  by  a  vanished  sun,  drifted  like  golden 
barges  heaped  with  snow,  less  tangible  than  had  been 
the  hope  just  shattered  by  her  stepmother. 

And  yet  something,  perhaps  the  ghost  of  the  vanished 
hope,  persisted,  tugging  at  her  as  a  fretful  child  at  its 
mother's  skirt.  Even  though  the  stepmother  had  re- 
fused, was  dull  submission  the  one  alternative?  Why 
should  she  not  write  in  her  own  behalf  to  Cousin  Judge  ? 
He  was  her  kinsman  and  her  father's  friend.  If  this 
desire  of  hers  was  indeed,  as  Donna  claimed,  ungrateful, 
he  would  gently  tell  her  so  and  would  maybe  advise 
her  how  best  to  face  the  dreary  outlook.  If  Randy 
were  in  Culpeper,  she  knew  how  ardently  he  would 
plead  her  cause.  But  Randy  had  gone  to  big  New  York 
and  forgotten,  most  likely,  that  she  ever  had  existed. 

The  young  Virginian  had  been  in  her  thoughts  since 
morning.  It  was  always  specially  the  case  on  her  birth- 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  141 

days.  She  loved  then  consciously  to  recall  each  word 
of  their  interview  at  the  youpon  hedge,  and  with  each 
year  the  memory,  far  from  paling,  gained  a  more  vivid 
tone,  as  every  added  league  of  air  spreads  deeper  blue 
upon  a  distant  mountain. 

She  took  her  elbows  from  the  window-ledge.  They 
were  pink  and  wrinkled  from  pressure  on  the  stone. 
She  felt  them  ruefully,  and  then  tilting  her  chair,  with 
feet  braced  against  the  edge  of  her  steamer  trunk,  put 
up  her  arms  and  slowly  lifted  two  long,  bright  wings  of 
hair.  Her  silken  kimono  sleeves,  slipping  downwards, 
left  the  young  arms  free. 

At  their  extreme  reach  the  fingers  could  still  inter- 
twine the  fine-spun  meshes,  and  she  held  these  lines 
horizontal,  while  from  them  looped  and  shimmered  a 
golden  web.  Even  in  so  dim  a  light  it  glittered,  as 
though  it  had  ensnared  memories  of  the  sun.  She 
brought  the  left  hand  nearer,  poising  it  above  her  head, 
and  saw  the  lindens  through  a  mist  of  yellow  light. 
The  sparkle  for  an  instant  was  reflected  in  her  eyes,  then 
again  they  grew  somber. 

"What's  the  use  of  its  shining  like  that?"  she  asked 
herself  forlornly.  "I'd  chop  it  all  off  with  a  hatchet 
this  minute  for  just  one  day  at  home  !" 

She  let  it  fall  and  rose  to  her  feet  to  begin  the  monoto- 
nous evening  toilet.  All  at  once  there  came  a  loud 
"honking"  from  the  court  below,  and  the  whizz  of  an 
approaching  motor.  The  old  white  dog  gave  her  hollow 
bark  of  welcome.  A  dreadful  premonition  sent  the  girl 
speeding  to  the  window.  Forgetting  her  bright  dis- 
array, she  leaned  far  out  and  paused  there  in  the  sudden 
relief  of  seeing  that  the  newcomer  was  a  stranger.  She 
did  not  realize  that  the  person  in  the  taxi  had  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  her,  that  he  had  stared,  transfixed,  and  then 


i42  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

suddenly  pulled  down  the  tan  traveling  hat  with  apolo- 
getic vehemence. 

Indeed,  Ariadne  had  not  seen  his  face  at  all.  The  fact 
that  he  sat  in  the  cab,  with  his  modest  hand-luggage 
on  the  seat  beside  him,  and  a  single  small  trunk  propped 
up  by  the  driver's  knees  in  front,  had  been  enough  to 
quell  her  fears.  She  did  not  need  to  let  her  gaze  skim 
past  him  in  search  of  a  second  vehicle,  which  would 
have  been  piled  high  with  costly  "boxes,"  and  presided 
over  by  a  swarthy,  black-eyed  valet. 

She  caught  back  the  golden  veil,  flinging  it  past  her 
shoulders,  and  again  leaned  over,  but  now  with  caution, 
to  watch  the  arrival  of  the  guest. 

The  little  portier  stood  in  readiness,  making  now  and 
then  a  gesture  to  silence  the  barking  dog.  A  little 
"buttons"  appeared  at  the  portier 's  elbow.  The  pas- 
senger already  had  a  lean,  ungloved  hand  upon  the 
carriage  door.  Ariadne  had  thought  from  the  cut  of 
his  traveling  coat  that  he  might  be  English,  but  she 
knew  now  that  he  was  surely  American.  Only  Ameri- 
cans abroad  ever  do  things  for  themselves. 

Almost  before  the  car  stopped  he  was  out  of  it.  But- 
tons, jabbering  excited  Dutch,  strove  valiantly  with  the 
traveler  for  his  handbag. 

"All  right,  sonny,  if  it's  that  much  to  you,"  said  a 
voice  rich  and  now  vibrant  with  amusement. 

"An  American  !"  whispered  Ariadne,  rocking  her  arms 
at  the  discovery.  "I  believe  he  is  a  Virginian,  too." 

The  newcomer  now  produced  a  pocketbook  and  ad- 
vanced to  pay  off  the  driver,  which  he  did,  remaining 
oblivious  to  the  portier's  reiterated  protests  that  "de 
hotel  do  all  such  t'ing  for  M'sieur." 

A  second  page,  clambering  into  the  vacated  taxi,  got 
on  his  knees  to  peer  into  each  corner,  even  reaching  down 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  143 

under  the  seat,  as  if  perhaps  a  collar  button  or  a  hoped- 
for  coin  might  have  gone  astray. 

At  length  the  small  procession  defiled  within  doors. 
Ariadne,  listening,  heard  them  coming  up  the  perpen- 
dicular flight  of  steps  to  her  very  door.  They  paused, 
and  the  mingled  footsteps  retreated  to  the  other  end  of 
her  corridor. 

She  rang  for  hot  water.  Somehow  the  necessity  of 
dressing  had  begun  to  seem  less  arid.  Dipping  the  dusty 
elbows  in  a  basin  of  water,  she  was  surprised  to  find  her- 
self smiling.  It  was  absurd  that  an  incident  so  trivial 
and  so  far  apart  from  her  own  concerns  should  have 
become  of  real  interest.  She  had  watched  the  arrival 
and  departure  of  a  thousand  hotel  visitors  without 
having  given  them  a  second  thought.  But  now,  all 
through  the  stages  of  her  toilet,  recollections  of  the  tall 
youth  beside  the  taxicab  register,  his  business-like 
scrutiny  of  the  handful  of  unfamiliar  coins,  and  the 
intent,  pained  faces  of  the  surrounding  menials,  returned 
to  her  in  dimples. 

"I  suppose  it  is  because  I  am  so  homesick  that  every- 
body looks  like  Randy,"  she  sighed,  opening  the  tiny 
wardrobe  where  her  evening  gowns  hung. 

She  drew  out  one  of  delicate  green,  made  in  the  latest 
mode  and  trimmed  with  an  exquisite  embroidery  of 
gold,  just  touched  with  black  and  a  few  threads  of  a  dull 
orange.  Holding  this  up  by  the  shoulder-rack,  she 
slowly  revolved  it  and  then  shook  her  head.  It  was  too 
decollete,  and  besides,  she  did  not  feel  like  green.  Next 
she  took  down  the  frock  that  was  her  favorite,  a  long, 
straight  gown  with  very  simple,  flowing  lines.  Its 
color  was  that  of  a  wild  morning-glory,  edged  with  a 
delicate,  dew-like  tracery  of  small,  crystal  beads.  The 
pointed  neck  came  high  enough  to  conceal  the  pendant 


144  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

coin.  She  wore  no  other  jewelry,  and  the  simple 
curves  of  her  hair  were  held  in  place  by  pins  of  a  bluish 
mother-of-pearl.  When  all  was  finished,  she  stood 
gazing  a  little  wistfully  at  her  reflected  image.  Even 
the  jaundiced  tones  of  the  glass  and  its  sadly  spotted 
surface  could  not  hide  the  fact  that  she  was  beautiful. 
But,  as  she  had  said  about  her  hair,  what  was  the  use  ? 
At  Cummins'  summoning  knock  she  caught  up  a  scarf 
of  white  tulle,  and  flinging  it  loosely  about  her  throat, 
joined  her  stepmother  in  the  lounge  that  gave  into  the 
great  dining-salon. 

As  she  followed  the  stately,  if  squat  figure,  robed  in 
amethyst  and  glittering  with  cut-steel  sequins,  Ariadne 
felt  rather  than  saw  that  the  tan-clad  stranger,  now  in 
conventional  evening  dress,  was  already  seated  at  a 
corner  table.  When  the  two  ladies  were  in  their  ac- 
customed places,  the  girl's  back  was  turned  to  him  and 
Donna,  on  her  left,  sat  in  profile.  Ariadne  could  not 
have  said  just  why,  but  she  hoped  that  her  stepmother 
would  not  stare  at  him  as  she  often  did  at  newcomers, 
lifting  her  jeweled  lorgnon  with  a  manner  borrowed 
from  haughty,  titled  dames.  Each  time  that  Donna's 
gaze  appeared  to  wander,  her  companion  leaned  forward 
quickly,  forcing  attention  back  upon  herself. 

Always  she  was  conscious  of  that  slender,  silent  figure 
in  black,  with  the  high  white  collar  and  shirt  front. 
Once  she  found  herself  listening  as  he  gave  his  waiter 
an  order,  and  then  with  an  inward  exclamation  asked 
herself  what  had  come  to  her  that  she  should  be  seized 
by  this  vulgar  and  unusual  curiosity. 

Since  Mrs.  Martel  possessed  two  interests  only,  her- 
self and  her  Connie,  the  girl  was  hard  put  to  it  for  in- 
telligent topics  of  conversation  and  was  finally  driven  to 
the  overworked  theme  of  her  stepmother's  "symptoms." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  145 

"I  can't  say  that  I  actually  suffer,"  that  lady  was  now 
explaining  in  answer  to  a  sympathetic  query,  "I  have 
always  been  a  victim  to  these  wretched  nervous  head- 
aches, as  you  know.  My  soul  and  body  are  very  sen- 
sitively attuned.  But  I  don't  feel  right.  I'm  sure 
these  places  on  my  neck  are  swelling.  Help  me  to 
remember  to  get  out  my  pearl  dog-collar  before  Connie 
comes.  Don't  you  notice  what  I  mean  ?  Here,  on  the 
left  side,  especially."  She  turned  her  ornamented  head 
far  to  one  side  and  slowly  pivoted  the  distorted  column 
of  her  throat.  In  doing  so  her  eyes  met,  straight  and 
full,  those  of  the  young  man  in  the  corner.  She  straight- 
ened with  the  shock  of  surprise. 

"Why,  Ariadne!"  she  gasped,  "I  do  believe  there's 
Randy  Carr  !  It  is.  He's  bowing  to  me.  Mr.  Carr  !" 
she  cried  excitedly,  while  waiters  and  the  other  diners 
stared.  "Come  over  here  at  once  !" 

Young  Carr,  his  face  the  color  of  one  of  the  immense 
strawberries  he  had  just  been  eating,  rose  and  moved 
swiftly  across  the  room. 

"Sit  right  down  and  have  your  coffee  with  us,"  Mrs. 
Martel  commanded  hospitably.  "Of  all  people  !  Where 
on  earth  did  you  come  from  ?" 

While  answering  these  and  similar  banal  questions, 
the  young  man's  gaze  went  constantly  to  the  girl  on  his 
other  side.  The  chair  which  an  assiduous  waiter  had 
instantly  placed  for  him  had  been  between  the  ladies, 
on  the  matron's  right.  Ariadne  had  no  chance  of  speak- 
ing, but  her  eyes  seemed  to  grow,  at  every  instant, 
larger,  deeper,  and  more  brilliant.  No  one  had  thought 
of  shaking  hands.  One  loses  the  way  of  it  upon  the 
Continent. 

In  the  first  pause,  Randolph  leaned  eagerly  to  her. 
"So  it  was  you  with  the  hair !" 


i46  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"The  hair!"  echoed  Mrs.  Martel,  and  looked  sus- 
piciously from  one  glowing  young  face  to  the  other. 
"What  on  earth  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Carr  ?  You  couldn't 
very  well  see  Ariadne  without  her  hair." 

"I  hardly  know  what  I  do  mean,"  laughed  the  Vir- 
ginian. "The  sight  of  you  two  has  nearly  knocked  me 
off  my  pins  !  How  long  are  you  staying  here?" 

"We  never  know,"  answered  the  elder  woman  with  a 
resigned  gesture.  "It  all  depends  on  Connie  —  that 
is,  my  husband,  Mr.  Martel,  you  know." 

"He  is  not  with  you  now?" 

"Not  at  present,  I  am  sorry  to  say;  but  we  are  ex- 
pecting him  at  almost  any  time." 

Still  Ariadne  had  not  spoken.  Indeed  she  had  no 
power  of  words  and  no  desire  to  speak.  Randy  was  here, 
beside  her.  She  scarcely  dared  believe  that  it  had  really 
happened.  She  feared  almost  to  move,  lest  the  appari- 
tion might  dissolve.  He  had  come  on  her  birthday,  too. 
The  wakening  hope  had  not  been,  after  all,  a  mockery. 

But  how  much  older  and  more  dignified  he  had  grown  ! 
Surely  at  Allan  Water  he  had  not  been  half  so  handsome  ! 
The  clear  brown-red  of  his  skin,  the  eager,  hazel  eyes 
and  the  thick,  short  hair  colored  like  new  bronze,  had 
all  gained  depth  and  tone  and  a  certain  unity  which  in 
his  boyish  comeliness  had  merely  been  suggested. 

Mrs.  Martel's  loquacity  gave  no  surcease.  Her  ques- 
tions crowded  forth,  seldom  pausing  for  a  full  response. 
She  complimented  the  young  man  on  his  personal  ap- 
pearance, at  which  inwardly  he  swore,  and  inquired 
after  his  Virginia  relatives  in  a  way  which  showed  that 
she  still  thought  him  a  resident  of  Culpeper.  He  was 
not  given  the  opportunity  of  enlightening  her  on  this, 
or  indeed,  on  many  other  points.  When  she  demanded 
of  him,  more  intelligently,  whether  he  still  continued  to 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  147 

practice  law,  he  answered  lightly:  "That  is  what  I'm 
supposed  to  do." 

At  this  Mrs.  Martel  grew  thoughtful. 

"Then  maybe  you  can  help  me  out,"  she  said  in  a 
bantering  tone,  which,  nevertheless,  had  a  ring  of  earnest- 
ness. Before  he  could  reply,  she  added:  "Yes,  I  be- 
lieve you  are  the  very  one.  You're  in  Judge  Henry's 
office  yet,  are  you  not?" 

"I  haven't  lived  in  Culpeper  for  six  years,"  the 
lawyer  replied  quickly.  "I'm  in  New  York." 

"Oh,  I  am  sorry,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Martel  in  evident 
disappointment. 

A  brief  silence  fell,  in  which  he  turned  again  to  Ariadne. 
"One  great  hope  I  had  in  coming  over,"  he  began,  speak- 
ing as  if  to  the  elder  lady,  but  with  eyes  that  smiled  on 
Ariadne,  "was  that  I  should  have  the  good  fortune  to 
run  across  Miss  Skipwith.  It's  been  a  mighty  long  time 
since  I  last  saw  her." 

"Seven  years,"  breathed  the  girl,  as  if  he  had  com- 
pelled the  words  from  her  parted  lips. 

Randy  drew  out  a  hidden  watch  and,  for  an  instant, 
displayed  it  beneath  the  screening  table-edge.  From 
the  black  fob  hung  the  half  of  a  silver  coin. 

"It  is  hot!"  remarked  Mrs.  Martel  innocently. 
"Both  your  faces  are  as  red  as  fire.  I  feel  that  mine  is, 
too." 

She  made  a  motion  to  rise.  The  young  man,  hastily 
ramming  the  watch  back  to  his  pocket,  went  to  her 
assistance. 

"Thank  you,  and  —  good  night,  Mr.  Carr,"  she  said 
graciously.  "It  has  been  very  pleasant  to  see  you, 
though,  of  course,  the  memories  -  Her  voice 
quavered. 

"But  you're  not  going  to  run  away  like  this !"  Ran- 


148  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

dolph  protested  in  dismay.  "I  haven't  begun  to  see 
you,  yet." 

"I  am  sorry,  but  I  happen  to  be  something  of  an  in- 
valid just  now.  I  know  it  is  better  for  me  to  retire 
early.  You  will  be  here  for  a  day  or  two  longer,  won't 
you?" 

"My  movements,  like  your  own,  are  an  uncertain 
quantity,"  fenced  the  young  lawyer. 

The  three  passed  out  of  the  long  room  together.  At 
the  foot  of  the  steps  Randolph  boldly  took  the  girl's 
hand  in  both  of  his. 

"At  least  I  must  congratulate  my  little  Virginia 
cousin  on  her  birthday,"  he  said  gently. 


CHAPTER  III 

UNTIL  now  a  restless  night  was  an  affliction  unknown 
to  Randy  Carr.  As  in  younger  days  he  might  inelegantly 
have  expressed  it,  he  always  slept  like  a  "nigger  full  of 
possum." 

After  a  desultory  unpacking  of  his  bags,  followed  by  a 
succession  of  cigarettes  warranted  to  undo  the  soporific 
effects  of  many  possums,  he  had  at  last  got  to  bed. 

"Talk  about  gridirons  and  potato  sacks!"  he  mut- 
tered, plunging  about  like  a  dolphin  on  the  excellent 
Doelen  mattress. 

Turning  on  the  electricity  an  hour  later,  the  light 
showed  a  bed  that  resembled  a  collapsed  balloon.  In 
desperation  he  rang  the  bell  and  demanded  a  whisky- 
and-soda.  The  waiter,  a  recent  importation  from 
Bavaria,  brought  him  a  whisk-broom.  Randolph  hurled 
it  from  him  and  made  gestures  to  indicate  a  sudden  and 
overwhelming  desire  for  strong  drink.  The  trembling 
menial  fled,  returning  later  with  his  national  panacea, 
Munich  beer,  and  nodded  with  satisfaction  as  he  watched 
the  liquid  disappear.  He  knew  well  its  soothing  qualities. 

Catching  sight  of  the  bed,  he  spread  it  back  into  order 
and  finally  departed,  sending  a  commiserating  glance 
toward  the  agitated,  but  very  generous  young  Herr,  who, 
as  his  sentimental  nature  whispered,  must  surely  be  in 
love.  What  else  could  have  such  power  to  disturb  one 
so  young,  apparently  so  wealthy,  and  so  very  good  to 
look  upon  ? 


150  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Ach  Gott !"  murmured  the  lad  as  he  lifted  the  glass 
and  drained  the  few  remaining  drops.  "The  Flower- 
maiden  ensnares  us  all !  Where  is  my  Gretchen?" 

Under  the  double  alleviations  of  the  beer  and  sheets 
newly  smoothed,  Randolph  fell  at  once  into  a  heavy  sleep, 
from  which  he  was  awakened  by  the  clatter  of  the  out- 
side world.  He  reached  out  for  his  watch ;  it  was  only 
six  o'clock.  He  lay  back  on  the  pillow  and  slowly  drew 
the  fob  through  his  fingers  until  they  reached  the  coin. 
He  smiled  at  the  jagged  edges.  Did  Ariadne  wear  hers, 
too?  He  had  noted  the  thread-like,  silver  chain,  but 
had  scarcely  dared  to  hope  that  his  boyish  gift  still  found 
a  resting-place  so  hidden  and  so  pure.  He  closed  his 
eyes  now,  recalling  the  contour  of  her  delicate  face. 
She  was  almost  unnecessarily  beautiful.  Even  in  his 
dreams  she  had  never  grown  into  such  white  and  gold 
and  jeweled  loveliness.  He  sighed;  somehow  her 
beauty  troubled  him. 

"Ariadne  of  Allan  Water!"  How  the  name  suited 
her  !  ,  "My  lady,  Ariadne,"  he  whispered ;  then  his  eyes 
clouded.  But  what  companionship !  He  marveled 
that  she  had  been  able  to  endure  so  many  years  of  it, 
remaining,  as  he  had  seen,  still  exquisite  and  uncon- 
taminated. 

To  remain  longer  in  bed  was  an  impossibility.  He  rang 
for  a  bath,  then  shaved  and  dressed  slowly,  as  he  thought. 
Hopefully  he  lifted  his  watch ;  it  was  barely  seven. 

"I  suppose  nobody  in  their  senses  ever  has  breakfast 
here  until  eight,"  he  thought,  scowling  out  across  the 
Tournooiveld.  "I'll  go  out  for  a  sprint ;  I  need  it !" 

At  this  moment  there  emerged  from  the  hotel  doorway 
one  of  the  smart,  green-clad,  bright-faced  pages,  known 
as  Peetje  —  a  name  so  delightfully  appropriate  one 
grieved  to  learn  that  it,  along  with  the  rosy  boy,  would 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  151 

some  day  pass  into  an  adult  Peter.  He  bore  rather  care- 
fully a  newspaper  held  together  by  the  corners.  In 
walking  he  had  made  little  sound ;  not  the  ghost  of  a 
whistle  had  issued  from  his  lips,  and  yet,  as  if  to  a 
summons,  all  the  sparrows  in  the  world  —  or  so  it  seemed 
to  the  astonished  watcher  from  above  —  dropped  simul- 
taneously from  the  trees  and  encircled  the  boy  in  a 
screaming,  chirruping,  brown  cloud  of  feathers.  Had 
they  been  parrot-green  instead  of  brown,  one  might  have 
expected  to  see  the  tree-limbs  bare  of  foliage. 

Unmoved  by  their  excitement,  the  boy  continued  his 
progress  to  the  foot  of  the  tallest  linden  and  there,  stoop- 
ing, let  one  corner  of  the  parcel  fall,  depositing  a  heap  of 
bread-crumbs,  bits  of  toast  and  cake.  The  birds  in- 
stantly hid  the  food  from  view,  while  at  the  sound  of  their 
shrill  wrangling  still  other  sparrows  from  more  distant 
boughs  shot  through  the  morning  to  hurl  themselves  in 
clusters  upon  the  protesting  mass  of  greedy  birds. 
Peetje  stood  up,  folded  the  paper  neatly,  and  went  back 
into  the  hotel,  this  kindly  function  being  obviously  but 
a  part  of  the  day's  routine. 

Now  the  old  portier  strolled  out.  In  his  mouth  was  a 
gigantic  cigar  as  brown  as  one  of  the  twittering  sparrows. 
He  gazed  around  condescendingly  upon  the  universe  at 
large,  then  bent  his  head,  and  folding  his  hands  behind 
him  in  a  Napoleonic  pose,  commenced  a  slow,  thoughtful 
pacing  back  and  forth.  Behind  him  the  white  dog 
trotted,  turning  as  he  turned,  and  lifting  her  plebeian 
countenance  now  and  then  for  a  look  or  nod  of  recog- 
nition. 

"Me  for  the  open  road  !"  exclaimed  the  young  Ameri- 
can, and  hastened  down  the  stairs  with  a  careless  buoy- 
ancy that  brought  smothered  curses  from  behind  more 
than  one  closed  door. 


152  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

At  the  sight  of  him  the  portier  advanced.  "Ah! 
Monsieur,  annuder  early  one!"  he  greeted  pleasantly. 
"You  do  well  to  seek  de  day  when  he  iss  new,  monsieur, 
so  many  stupid  ones  dere  are  to  sleep."  He  gave  a  wave 
of  humorous  contempt  upward  to  the  fagade  of  the 
building,  where  indeed  but  two  of  the  many  windows 
showed  their  thick  curtains  drawn. 

"Yes,  it  was  too  jolly  for  bed.  I  felt  I  must  be  out. 
Where  can  I  take  a  stroll  and  not  lose  myself  ?" 

The  portier  appeared  to  be  considering ;  old  Machem 
rubbed  her  head  against  the  young  man's  trousers.  He 
stooped  for  an  instinctive  pat  and  a  "Good  old  doggie." 

"You  will  go  to  de  Vyver,"  said  the  old  man  with 
decision.  "He  is  not  far;  you  can  see  de  shining  through 
de  trees  at  der  end  of  dis  square.  Ja,  you  will  like  our 
Vyver!" 

As  Randolph  thanked  him  and  swung  his  broad 
shoulders  along  the  close-set  pavement,  the  portier's 
smiling  wrinkles  very  nearly  sent  his  glasses  to  the 
bricks.  Machem  looked  up  inquiringly.  The  portier 
stopped  to  pat  her  as  the  young  man  had  done. 

"We  know  a  good  heart  when  it  opens  to  us,  do  we  not, 
my  Machem  ?  "  he  murmured  in  Dutch. 

The  old  dog  wagged  what  was  meant  to  be  a  tail. 
She  loved  to  hear  her  master  use  that  tone.  It  sounded 
like  her  favorite  kind  of  cake. 

"Now  what  in  thunder  is  a  Vyver?"  young  Carr  was 
speculating.  "It  might  be  a  statue,  or  a  town-hall,  or  a 
cemetery !  Anyway,  I'll  keep  on  until  something 
happens." 

It  had  happened  !  Randolph  came  to  an  ecstatic  halt. 
"So  this  is  why  the  portier' s  eyes  were  dancing  !" 

Ariadne  stood  alone  at  the  brink  of  an  inclosed  rec- 
tangle of  shining  water,  looking  out  apparently  to  a  small, 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  153 

wooded  island  in  its  midst.  Over  her  head  pink-flower- 
ing chestnut  trees,  the  color  of  crape-myrtle  blossoms  at 
home,  spread  broad,  low  branches.  Now  and  again  a 
floret,  overcome  by  curiosity,  loosed  its  tiny  clutch  and 
fell  reeling  dizzily  upon  her. 

He  cared  no  longer  for  the  Vyver  and  its  meaning. 
Now  he  walked  cautiously.  He  wished  to  come  upon  her 
unawares,  to  see  whether  her  face  would  flash  sponta- 
neous welcome.  It  was  hard  to  move  slowly.  The  gravel 
squeaked  like  so  many  tiny  bagpipes.  He  was  sure  at 
every  inch  that  she  would  hear  the  noise  and  turn. 

She  continued  to  stand  motionless,  her  eyes  fixed 
outward.  The  hands  hanging  loosely  at  her  sides  were 
gloved  in  gray.  The  one  toward  him  held  a  letter.  At 
this  sight  Randy's  heart  went  down  like  lead.  Of 
course  it  was  from  some  "  fellow."  A  girl  like  that  would 
have  admirers  by  the  score. 

His  chastened  steps  reached  her  without  betrayal.  He 
was  at  her  side,  the  tan  hat  lifted,  before  she  recognized 
the  presence  of  an  intruder.  It  gave  him  a  little  stab  of 
pain  to  note  that  she  had  instinctively  drawn  back. 

But  now  the  smiles  sparkled.  She  ran  to  him,  her 
hand  outstretched.  "Oh  !  it  is  you  !"  she  cried,  with  a 
note  of  joy  that  thrilled  him.  "I  am  so  very  glad  !" 

He  took  the  little  hand,  holding  it  close.  "Now  at 
last  I  can  really  'ax  you  howdy,  '"he  responded  warmly. 

"Don't."  She  checked  him  with  a  short  sob.  "I'm 
deathly  homesick  already.  This  —  this  "  -  she  lifted 
the  opened  letter  —  "has  just  come  from  Grandma." 
She  drew  the  other  hand  from  his  and  began  searching 
for  her  handkerchief.  "Don't  mind  if  I  cry  a  little 
more,"  she  begged.  "They  really  are  happy  tears." 

His  keen  glance  had  detected  signs  of  weeping,  and 
he  had  burned  with  new  hatred  of  the  one  who  had 


154  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

written  words  to  cause  her  grief.  After  all,  it  was  only 
"  Grandma."  The  reaction  made  him  quite  light-headed. 
How  joyously  the  Vyver  ducks  quacked  all  at  once  ! 

"It  wasn't  only  the  letter,  but  this  came  in  it,"  she 
went  on  tremulously,  unfolding  a  small  but  exquisite 
collar  of  rosepoint.  "It  was  grandma's  —  and  my 
mother  wore  it,  too." 

"There  is  something  in  the  folds,"  said  Randy,  not 
daring  to  touch  the  fragile  strands. 

"That  is  what  really  made  me  cry,"  the  girl  whispered. 
Her  eyes  brimmed,  and  to  hide  it  she  bent  over,  pressing 
her  lips  to  the  withered  flower. 

"It  is  just  a  rose,  a  little  cinnamon  rose  —  from  — 
from  —  The  voice  died  in  a  sob.  It  could  not  utter 
the  name  of  that  sacred  garden-spot. 

"I  think  I  know,"  said  Randy,  swallowing  hard. 
"And  what  a  lovely  thought  to  send  it  for  your  birthday, 
yesterday." 

"Yes  !    You  —  remembered ? " 

"Did  you  expect  me  to  forget?"  he  retorted  almost 
brusquely.  "Look  here."  He  lifted  the  watch  fob. 
His  half-coin  had  been  set  in  a  cipher  of  aluminum.  It 
looked  like  a  very  mountainous  new  moon  in  the  arm  of 
the  old. 

"I  wear  mine  too,  always,"  confessed  the  girl,  her 
drooped  face  flushing.  She  put  her  hand  to  the  thread- 
like necklace,  drawing  a  loop  outward  above  her 
collar. 

Randoph  was  dumb ;  so  his  hope  had  not  been  pre- 
sumptuous !  In  the  strange  shyness  which  encom- 
passed him,  he  stooped  for  a  pebble,  and  leaning  over 
the  water,  dropped  it  upon  the  back  of  a  hungry, 
expectant  fowl. 

The  duck  turned  an  indignant,  twitching  tail  upon 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  155 

him  and  sped  off  to  the  island,  followed  by  an  inquiring 
string  of  congeners. 

"You  mustn't  do  that,"  protested  the  girl,  laughing 
but  still  at  struggle  to  withhold  the  tears.  "Yes,  you 
did  understand  about  the  rose.  But  now  tell  me  — 
were  you  at  home  —  in  your  home,  Culpeper,  before 
you  came  over  here  ?  I  want  to  know  everything  about 
my  kindred." 

"You  bet  I  was,  just  before  sailing,  which  isn't  quite 
two  weeks." 

"  So  short  a  time,"  wondered  Ariadne.  "And  America 
seems  to  me  so  far,  so  very  far  away." 

"Nothing  is  far  away  these  days,"  the  traveled  youth 
informed  her.  "Distance  is  shriveling  up  at  such  a 
rate  that  soon  there  won't  be  any." 

"And  I  feel  as  if  there  wasn't  anything  else,"  sighed 
the  exile.  Then,  as  if  determined  to  put  aside  repinings, 
she  asked  quickly:  "What  was  the  last  you  heard  of 
Grandma  and  Cousin  Agnes?" 

"I  didn't  have  to  hear,"  boasted  her  companion.  "I 
was  at  Allan  Water." 

"You  —  you  came  straight  from  my  home?"  she 
gasped.  "Oh,  how  did  it  seem;  and  how  was 
Grandma?" 

"Just  as  chipper  as  the  day  you  said  good-by.  She's 
a  wonderful  old  lady  !  And  she  and  Mrs.  Hill  have 
grown  to  be  twin  souls." 

"This  is  such  good,  good  news,"  sighed  the  girl  hap- 
pily. "Of  course  she  writes  cheerful  letters,  but  she 
might  do  that  anyway.  It  is  not  like  hearing  from 
somebody  who  has  seen  her  with  their  own  eyes." 
She  looked  up  now  to  the  anointed  eyes,  and  her  own 
were  so  tender  and  so  beautiful  that  Randolph's  heart 
seemed  about  to  dissolve  before  their  gaze. 


156  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"There's  another  place  I  went;  you  know,"  he  ap- 
pealed boyishly,  pointing  to  the  withered  rose.  "The 
place  where  it  grew." 

"Oh  !  Randy  !"  she  breathed,  and  could  say  no  more. 

"The  queerest  thing  happened  to  me  while  I  was 
there"  —  it  was  almost  as  if  the  words  were  spoken 
against  his  will  —  "I  don't  know  whether  I  am  doing 
right  to  tell  you,  but  somehow  I  must. 

"It  was  just  before  sunset.  I  had  left  your  grand- 
mother out  in  the  garden,  near  that  old  Judas-tree  by  the 
corner  of  the  house  —  you  remember  ?" 

"Do  I  remember!" 

"Of  course,  what  an  ass  I  am !  Well,  Grandma  had 
given  me  permission  to  go.  I  held  the  key  to  the  big 
iron  gate  in  my  hands.  I  went  through  the  youpon 
hedge  gate.  You  see,  I'm  not  asking  if  you  remember 
that"  he  flashed,  with  a  grin  that  showed  teeth  as  white 
as  those  of  Anguish.  "And  I  had  just  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  hill  and  was  starting  up  the  other  side 
among  the  pine-needles,  when  —  now,  here's  the  spooky 
part  —  I  heard  your  voice  calling  'Randy'!  I  don't 
wonder  that  you  look  as  if  I  had  poured  cold  water  over 
you,"  he  laughed.  "I  hardly  believe  it  myself,  but  I'll 
give  you  my  solemn  oath  that  it  was  as  real,  as  audible, 
as  the  cry  of  that  milk-girl  yonder  with  her  cart." 

"Was  it  that  one  time  only?"  asked  Ariadne,  with 
lips  that  began  to  feel  stiff  and  cold. 

"No,  it  was  just  the  beginning.  I  hurried  on  up  the 
hill,  calling-  myself  a  fool  and  a  few  other  things.  But 
as  I  unlocked  the  gate,  you  said  it  over  —  twice.  It 
sounded  as  if  you  were  in  trouble  and  needed  me. 

"I  went  inside  and  sat  near  your  mother's  grave. 
The  whole  world  smelled  of  cinnamon  roses.  The  sun 
was  low,  and  I  can  see  now  those  long,  yellow  streaks  of 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  157 

light  on  the  brick  wall  opposite.  Of  course,  it  was  only 
natural  that  I  should  be  thinking  of  you  there,  but  some- 
how it  wasn't  thinking  —  it  was  feeling  —  being  —  Oh, 
how  can  I  express  it  ?  I  never  had  such  an  experience 
in  my  life  !  Please  don't  think  me  a  beast  of  a  coward 
if  I  admit  that,  at  one  time,  my  hair  stood  up,  and  I  felt 
as  if  beetles  were  doing  the  'grizzly'  along  my  spine. 
For  after  a  while  it  wasn't  your  influence  I  felt,  though 
yours  remained  throughout  the  strongest  —  but  —  but 
I  seemed  to  know  that  your  father,  and  even  the  young 
mother  who  had  been  asleep  so  long,  that  they,  too,  were 
'alert  and  aware,'  trying  to  tell  me  that  you  needed  me. 

"Just  then  a  dreadful  something  came  into  the  air, 
or  rather,  the  reflex  of  a  horror  —  for  it  was  you  —  way 
over  here  —  that  was  fighting  back  the  horror. 

"I  got  up  on  my  feet  and  found  that  my  hands  were 
clinched  like  this."  He  held  up  two  vibrant,  bronze 
fists.  "I  wanted  to  pitch  into  somebody,  though  I 
couldn't  say  whom.  Then  the  worst  part  faded,  and 
peace  fell  on  the  little  burying-ground  again.  But 
when  I  started  down  that  hill,  my  knees  were  so  shaky 
that  I  thought  they'd  give  under  me  at  every  step. 

"I  went  back  to  New  York  in  the  morning,  and  the 
first  piece  of  news  handed  out  was  that  I  must  catch 
the  next  steamer  for  Europe.  Now,  what  do  you  make 
of  that  for  a  pipe-dream?"  he  demanded,  trying  to 
speak  lightly,  though  the  muscles  of  his  face  still  twitched. 

"You  said  it  was  about  two  weeks  ago  ?" 

"Yes,  just.  Wait  a  minute  !  I  can  tell  you  the  exact 
date.  It  was  Wednesday,  the  seventh  of  May." 

"And  the  hour  was  sunset?" 

"A  little  before.  I  should  say  that  the  time  was 
about  half-past  five.  I  didn't  have  enough  sense  left 
to  look  at  my  watch." 


158  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"In  Holland  that  would  be  about  half -past  nine, 
wouldn't  it?" 

"Search  me!"  demurred  Randolph  slangily.  "I 
haven't  been  on  this  side  long  enough.  The  sun  appears 
to  be  up  to  some  queer  old  tricks,  though.  As  far  as  I 
can  see,  these  twilights  last  until  next  morning." 

"Yes,  they  do  linger  for  many  hours,"  she  murmured 
faintly. 

He  looked  at  her  sharply.  "Ariadne  !  Dear  little 
girl !  You  are  shaking  as  if  you  had  a  chill.  There,  I 
knew  I  should  not  have  told  you  that  grewsome  story. 
I'm  a  bonehead  !  Matteawan  should  be  my  middle 
name  !  Come,  let  us  go  over  to  that  bench." 

He  stooped  for  the  fallen  letter,  and  taking  his  com- 
panion by  the  arm,  assisted  her  across  the  few  yards 
of  distance. 

For  a  long  time  both  were  silent.  The  Virginian,  if 
one  judged  from  his  scowl,  was  still  engaged  in  calling 
himself  an  idiot.  What  the  girl  beside  him  felt  could 
not  be  fathomed.  Her  head  was  lifted,  and  her  face 
was  very  pale,  but  its  whiteness  was  translucent,  hint- 
ing of  radiance  from  a  hidden  shrine. 

Slowly  her  breathing  became  regular,  and  a  faint 
pink  stole  back  to  her  cheeks. 

"How  did  you  happen  to  find  the  Vyver?"  she  asked 
in  a  natural  voice. 

"But  have  I  found  it  ?"  the  young  man  laughed.  He 
was  thankful  to  speak  again  on  ordinary  matters. 

"Why,  yes  —  didn't  you  know  ?  This  is  the  Vyver." 
She  made  a  comprehensive  gesture.  "The  water  that 
you  see  is  all  that  is  left  of  the  old  Binnenhof  moat." 

"And  what  is  the  Binnenhof?  It  sounds  like  a  beer- 
garden." 

"It  is  that  group  of  old,  old  buildings  that  you  can 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  159 

see  rising  above  newer  ones.  I  don't  know  its  history 
myself,  but  it  has  been  a  place  of  Dutch  government 
and  law-making  forever.  Their  parliament  still  meets 
in  it,  I  believe." 

"Hope  they  make  better  laws  than  some  of  ours," 
muttered  the  young  advocate. 

Ariadne  turned  serious  eyes  to  his.  "There  is  one 
thing  more  I  want  to  ask  you.  No,  not  about  that  ter- 
rible and  beautiful  thing!"  she  interpolated  quickly, 
as  she  noted,  the  protest  of  his  gesture.  "Why  was  it 
that  you  had  to  come  abroad?" 

The  lawyer's  direct  gaze  did  not  falter,  though  above 
it  his  brows  came  together  in  a  troubled  way.  "It's 
about  a  lawsuit  —  a  pretty  unsavory  one,  too.  I 
mustn't  talk  about  it  until  I  am  sure,  but  I  can  tell  you 
this  much  in  confidence :  there's  already  very  little  doubt 
in  my  mind  that  the  l  Levantine  Mixture '  is  the  man  I'm 
rounding  up." 

"You  mean  Mr.  Martel?  About  that  money  he  has 
just  lost  in  Paris  !" 

Randolph  jumped.  "What  do  you  know  about 
Martel  and  Paris  ?" 

"Only  what  Donna  read  me  from  his  letter,"  answered 
the  girl  in  some  confusion  —  his  eyes  were  so  quick  and 
hard.  "He  —  he  —  speculated  or  something,  and  must 
have  twenty  thousand  dollars  at  once." 

"You  are  positive  that  is  the  sum?" 

"Oh,  yes.  Donna  was  in  a  frightful  state  of  mind  all 
day  over  it.  That's  what  she  meant  last  night  when 
she  referred  to  your  being  a  lawyer  and  could  give  her 
advice." 

"So  that  was  it !"  Again  he  pondered  thoughtfully. 
"I'm  afraid  the  poor  woman  is  in  for  a  dreadful  time. 
But  look  here,  Ariadne,  don't  let's  spoil  our  morning 


160  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

by  thinking  about  ugly  facts.  Why  shouldn't  we  have 
a  little  Dutch  breakfast  somewhere,  all  to  ourselves? 
I'm  a  distant  relative,  you  know.  Not  very  distant  at 
this  moment,  thank  the  Lord!"  he  supplemented 
fervently. 

"We  should,"  seconded  the  girl,  springing  to  her  feet. 
"Will  you  put  my  precious  letter  hi  your  pocket?  I 
know  just  the  place  to  go." 

"Lead  me  to  it,"  quoth  Randy,  in  the  vocabulary  of 
his  native  town. 

Laughing,  they  rose,  sauntering  and  pausing  as  young 
things  will,  beneath  the  flower-set  branches.  The  greedy 
ducks,  having  recovered  from  the  recent  affront,  followed 
to  the  extreme  far  corner  of  the  Vyver.  But  for  once 
Ariadne  neither  saw  nor  heard  them. 

"This  is  the  Plaat,"  she  announced,  as  they  stepped 
into  a  small,  open  space.  "The  fishwives  stop  here 
with  their  wares  from  Scheveningen.  See,  there  is  a 
'bus-load  now." 

"A  'bus-load!"  echoed  Randolph,  staring.  "I 
thought  all  'busses  belonged  to  London." 

"These  came  from  London;  it  must  have  been  a 
century  ago,  to  look  at  them." 

"The  horses  were  evidently  thrown  in,"  remarked 
the  young  man  disparagingly. 

"They  are  knock-kneed  and  funny,  poor  things," 
Ariadne  laughed.  "And  this  'bus  is  so  old  it  looks  as 
if  it  wanted  to  kneel  down  like  a  camel.  But  just  see 
those  rosy  faces  under  the  wonderful  caps.  It  is  crowded 
with  them  inside  and  out.  The  top  is  a  roof-garden  of 
big  white  iris  !  " 

"I  can't  perceive  an  iris  fragrance,"  grinned  Randy, 
as  the  moth-eaten  vehicle  staggered  past. 

"That  is  their  fish-baskets,"  explained  Ariadne,  her 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  161 

dimples  playing.  "I  suppose  they  must  get  used  to  it 
in  time." 

"Evidently,  as  they  still  live." 

She  threw  him  a  look  of  smiling  deprecation. 

"Now  we  go  through  this  little  arch  into  the  Buitenhof 
and  pass  the  famous  prison  where  John  van  Barnevelt 
languished,  as  the  guide-books  say,  and  from  which  those 
splendid  brothers,  John  and  Cornelius  de  Witte,  were 
dragged  and  murdered.  And  there,"  nodding  her  head 
toward  a  pavement  shaded  by  trees  and  set  with  small, 
round  tables,  "there's  our  restaurant." 

"I  say  !  there's  quite  some  class  to  this  !"  radiated  her 
companion,  as  they  took  their  places  in  a  sequestered 
spot.  "I  feel  that  I'm  going  to  have  the  breakfast  of 
my  life.  I  want  a  Dutch  one  —  everything  complete." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  !"  he  exclaimed,  for  Ariadne 
had  given  a  cry  of  dismay,  followed  by  laughter  which 
proved  difficult  to  quell. 

"It's  only  —  you  —  you've  never  seen  one,"  she 
managed  to  articulate.  "  I  have.  You'd  better  let  me 
tell  you." 

The  young  man's  elbows  went  to  the  marble  top.  He 
looked  puzzled  and  a  little  sheepish. 

"First,"  she  began,  trying  hard  to  appear  serious, 
"this  cozy  little  table  would  be  whisked  away,  and  a 
sort  of  platform  —  a  carpenter's  bench  —  dragged  into 
its  place." 

"A  wider  table?" 

"Much  wider  —  we'd  need  a  telephone." 

"Stop  there  !     I've  heard  enough." 

"Then  all  the  waiters  would  file  out  with  cheeses," 
she  went  on  merrily,  ignoring  his  capitulation. 

"You  mean  Edam  Cheese,  of  course?" 

"That's  the  only  kind  we  know  at  home  :  red  balloons 


162  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN  WATER 

and  pineapples.  But  there  are  dozens  of  varieties. 
Some  are  so  brown  with  cinnamon  it  looks  like  snuff. 
Others  are  full  of  nutmeg,  and  caraway  seed,  and  citron, 
and  ginger  — 

"  Spare  me!" 

"After  the  cheeses  come  cold  meats  —  I  couldn't 
look  at  them  —  they  needed  cooking ;  and  fish,  even 
more  raw  —  great  chunks  of  it  —  and  dried  fish,  done 
in  pickles  or  a  dreadful  yellow  sauce.  Then  radishes 
and  cucumbers;  after  that  pots  of  honey,  thickened 
pear-juice,  prunes,  and  crystallized  ginger,  pickled 
peaches  —  and,  oh,  I  forgot !  —  a  million  kinds  of 
'saucijis. '" 

"What  have  you  saved  me  from?"  murmured  the 
fainting  youth.  "I'll  order  rolls  and  coffee." 

"Perhaps  we  could  risk  some  eieren"  suggested  his 
preserver. 

"What's  that  —  a  tonic ?" 

"No,  eggs;  just  good,  old,  sho'-nuff  eggs,"  she 
dimpled.  "  If  you  chance  to  be  an  epicure,  you'll  demand 
duck  eggs." 

"I  don't  chance,"  rallied  the  chastened  voice.  "Not 
even  if  they  were  laid  on  that  island  in  the  Vyver." 

After  the  fragrant  coffee  had  been  served,  and  the 
eggs  successfully  decapitated,  Ariadne  asked  her  host 
whether  he  had  become  reconciled  to  living  in  New 
York. 

"Reconciled!  Why,  I  wouldn't  live  in  any  other 
city,  if  you  gave  it  to  me  with  a  pound  of  tea !  Why, 
anybody  under  a  hundred  must  feel  young  and  energetic 
in  that  great  beaker  of  bubbles.  You  don't  have  time 
to  grouch." 

"What  is  a  grouch  ?    I  never  heard  that  word  before." 

"Oh,  just  New  York  slang!"   explained   Randolph 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  163, 

largely.  "Over  there  you  get  a  new  phrase  for  each, 
day.  They  are  some  of  the  bubbles.  In  English  you 
would  probably  express  it  by  'repine.'  But  now, 
honest,  doesn't  that  sound  like  cambric- tea  beside  the 
grippy,  grinding-your-teeth  word  'grouch'?" 

"It  does,"  admitted  his  vis-d-vis,  smiling.  "But 
somehow  I  can't  think  of  you  as  grouching  anywhere." 

"Well,"  he  agreed  modestly,  "I  haven't  had  much 
cause  to  grouch  as  yet.  Judge  Henry  got  me  in  with  a 
powerful  firm,  you  know.,  and  I've  been  lucky  from  the 
start." 

"I'm  so  glad.  Do  you  mean  lucky  in  your  pro- 
fession?" 

"Yes,  being  retained  in  some  important  cases,  for 
instance,  and  having  them  decently  reported  in  the 
papers  when  I  had  managed  to  pull  them  off.  Don't 
think  me  a  boaster,"  he  pleaded,  with  a  quizzical,  boyish 
look.  "But  the  last  one,  about  a  month  ago,  was 
considered  so  —  er  —  so  —  creditable  that  I  was  taken 
into  the  firm  as  full  member.  It's  a  wonderful  push  !" 

"So  now  you  really  do  get  cases  that  you  can  charge 
money  for?"  she  laughed,  recalling  his  boyish  lament 
beneath  the  cherry-tree. 

"Well,  rather  !  But  since  we  are  talking  of  my  un- 
worthy self,"  he  continued,  his  voice  taking  a  more  seri- 
ous tone,  "there's  something  that  I  want  to  tell  you, 
little  friend  :  a  certain  stand  I  have  taken  in  law  —  my 
personal  platform,  so  to  speak  —  which  has  really  been 
determined  through  your  affairs  —  and  you." 

"How  could  your  practice  in  that  big  city  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  me  ?"  she  marveled. 

"A  lot;  you  just  listen.  My  very  first  job,  after 
being  admitted  to  the  Virginia  Bar,  was  that  will  I  drew 
at  Allan  Water." 


164  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

The  girl's  eyes  lowered. 

"You  saw  for  yourself  how  I  felt  about  that."  He 
paused,  and  she  murmured  :  "Yes." 

"I  did  my  fighting  best  to  undo  it  afterwards,  and 
your  Cousin  Nellie  was  with  me,  heart  and  soul.  But 
the  others,  including  you  yourself,  were  too  strong  for 
me,  or  rather,  I  should  say,  too  passive.  Anyway,  the 
thing  went  through." 

"There  was  never  any  other  possibility,  Randy." 

"That's  neither  here  nor  there.  I  am  referring  now 
to  my  part  in  it  —  my  hateful,  reluctant  part." 

"I  know  how  you  felt,  dear  Randy,"  she  murmured. 

"  Right  there  I  said  to  myself  :  '  This  is  a  case  of  never 
again,'  and  I've  proved  it  so.  From  the  first  moment 
that  I  took  up  my  new  position,  I  had  it  clearly  under- 
stood that  I  would  never  consent  to  plead  a  case  or  even 
be  mixed  up  in  one  that  I  didn't  believe  to  be  genuine 
and  in  the  right.  My  senior  partners  winked  at  each 
other.  They  roared  when  I  got  out  of  the  room ;  I 
heard  them  !  I  suppose  I  must  have  seemed  a  conceited, 
priggish  young  tar-heel  from  the  piney  woods.  Of 
course  they  promised.  They  never  had  an  idea  that  I'd 
stick  to  it.  But  I  have  !"  His  lean,  brown  jaws  came 
together  with  a  click. 

Ariadne's  eyes  flashed  righteousness  into  his. 

"You  always  will,  too!"  she  cried  with  a  note  of 
triumph. 

A  beautiful  smile  relaxed  the  steely  spring  of  his 
mouth.  For  one  instant  he  rested  his  bare  hand  on 
hers. 

"The  funniest  thing  of  all,"  he  went  on,  now  almost 
jocosely,  "is  that  the  old  boys  keep  up  their  pretense  of 
laughing  at  what  they  call  my  ante-bellum  scruples, 
but  any  one  can  see  that  they  are  as  pleased  as  Punch. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  165 

The  newspapers  cartoon  me  as  'Sir  Galahad  of  the  Bar/ 
You  can  imagine  —  or  rather  you  can't  —  the  sort  of 
'bar'  that  is  shown  in  their  absurd  pictures:  bottles, 
and  mirrors,  and  a  brass  foot-rail,"  he  elaborated 
vaguely. 

''They  make  fun  of  you  in  papers !  They  dare  to  !"' 
she  cried  indignantly. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind!"  he  laughed.  "It  is  all  bully 
advertising,  and  it  lets  the  public  know  just  where  I 
stand." 

As  he  talked,  the  girl's  eager  face  shifted  and  quivered 
like  the  rose-opal  to  which  Cousin  Nellie  had  once 
likened  it.  She  drank  in  breathlessly  not  only  the  im- 
passioned words,  but  every  look  of  him.  She  did  not 
lose  a  single  utterance;  her  eyes  were  a  mirror  to  his 
varying  intonations.  Yet  underneath  this  mental  appre- 
hension ran  little  ecstatic  phrases  of  self-uttered 
thoughts : 

"He  is  Virginia  —  with  its  clear,  bright  air  and  health- 
giving  forests.  He  is  an  October  day  —  a  young  Octo- 
ber day,  with  the  coloring  of  autumn  in  his  eyes  and 
cheeks  and  hair.  He  is  the  brown,  swift  creek  at  Allan 
Water,  with  its  golden  sand  beneath.  I  knew  he  would 
be  clean  and  good  and  wonderful !  Oh,  I  am  glad  that 
he  is  here  !  Even  when  we  must  part,  I  shall  have  this 
beautiful  new  memory.  He  is  a  piece  of  home  !" 

"That  ends  my  oration  for  the  day  !"  He  broke  off 
somewhat  abruptly.  "I  didn't  intend  to  inflict  you  at 
quite  such  length.  You  will  see  what  my  opposing 
lawyers  mean  when  they  say  that  once  get  me  started, 
I  am  liable  to  talk  the  arm  off  the  Statue  of  Liberty. 

"Now,  Ariadne,  tell  me  something  about  your  own 
life.  That  is  really  what  I  came  for.  I  had  fully  de- 
termined to  sail,  even  before  this  business  matter  turned 


166  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

up.  What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself  all  these 
centuries  you  have  been  away?" 

"Chiefly  packing  and  unpacking;  getting  on  trains 
and  getting  off  of  them.  It  is  not  half  so  exciting 
as  being  caricatured,"  she  answered,  with  a  little 
moue. 

"You  must  have  seen  a  lot  of  the  world,"  Randolph 
mused.  "I  envy  you  that  part.  But  your  special 
interests,  your  personal  friends  ?  I  suppose  you  hardly 
stop  long  enough  anywhere  to  make  them?" 

"Indeed  I  do.  Oh,  I  have  lots  and  lots  of  friends !" 
she  exulted. 

"Really  ?    Are  any  of  them  here  at  the  Hague  ?" 

"Only  one  —  as  yet." 

"And  who  is  he,  if  I  may  ask?" 

Ariadne  controlled  her  face  with  difficulty.  "He  is 
the  portieres  little  granddaughter,  Betje,  who  is  now 
giving  me  lessons  in  Dutch." 

" Oh  ! "  grinned  Randy.     "Are  the  others  kids,  too  ? " 

"They  are  undersized  angels,  if  that  is  what  you  mean 
by  kids!"  she  flung  at  him.  "Dear,  precious,  little 
peasant  children  of  a  half-dozen  different  nationalities : 
Swiss,  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  German,  Belgian,  and 
Dutch.  It  does  sound  ridiculous,  but  I  have  forty-one 
correspondents,  all  under  ten  years  old.  Some  are  so 
tiny  that  their  mothers  have  to  write  for  them.  Betje 
will  make  forty-two.  It  is  the  children  who  taught  me 
languages.  I  had  to  learn,  you  know,  so  I  could  answer 
their  letters." 

"  Good  heavens  !  What  have  I  struck  ?  Seven  lan- 
guages !"  whistled  the  young  man,  pretending  to  move 
his  chair  back  in  alarm. 

"No,  only  four,"  she  sparkled.  "You  see,  French 
does  for  Belgium  and  Lower  Switzerland.  If  I  ever 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  167 

accomplish  Dutch,  which  doesn't  seem  very  likely,  that 
will  be  just  five." 

"That's  leaving  out  English,  Nigger,  and  American. 
The  last  two  are  my  limit,"  he  deplored. 

The  girl  laughed  gayly.  "I  must  show  you  some  of 
my  treasures :  the  dearest,  quaintest,  most  unbelievable 
little  letters.  I  wouldn't  give  a  single  one  for  the  biggest 
diamond  that  ever  shone." 

"I  can  see  that  in  your  face." 

"And  that's  not  all,"  she  went  on,  lured  into  confidence 
by  the  tender  interest  in  his  watching  eyes.  "I  send  a 
little  present  to  each  one  at  Christmas.  This  is  my  one 
great  pleasure.  Already  I  have  begun  dressing  dolls. 
Often  they  are  poor,  cheap,  little  toys ;  but  my  friends 
are  all  poor,  too,  so  they  don't  mind." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  not  having  spending  money? 
Your  father's  income  must  be  enormous." 

"I  —  I  —  don't  know,"  she  hesitated.  "My  step- 
mother sometimes  remembers  to  give  me  a  little,  but 
often  she  forgets.  I  never  ask  her." 

The  lawyer  had  flushed  darkly.  "I  don't  under- 
stand," he  persisted.  "Even  in  that  will,  which  I 
thought  pernicious,  it  was  expressly  stipulated  that  as 
long  as  you  were  with  that  —  with  your  stepmother,  the 
income  was  to  be  equally  divided." 

"Donna  doesn't  look  at  it  that  way,  I  think."  The 
words  were  spoken  without  resentment.  She  stated 
this  as  she  might  any  other  ordinary  fact. 

Randolph,  unseen,  clutched  a  table-leg.  His  very 
eyes  burned  with  indignation,  but  he  warned  himself 
that  this  was  not  the  time  to  give  it  full  expression. 
"How  have  you  endured  seven  years  with  those  two' 
people?"  he  allowed  himself. 

"You  mustn't  ask  me,  Randy.  I  don't  know  what 
to  say." 


i68  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"But  I  must,  dear.  You  know  it  is  because  I  care. 
Are  they  actively  disagreeable  or  unkind  ?" 

"No  —  no.     Donna  is  really  fond  of  me." 

He  gave  a  harsh  laugh.  "She  has  a  queer  way  of 
showing  it !  But  the  man,  Martel  ?  I've  never  seen 
him,  but  I  know  a  few  choice  things.  He  isn't  fit  to 
breathe  the  air  with  you." 

The  girl's  eyes  fell.  In  her  nervousness  she  began 
putting  on  her  gloves,  tugging  at  them  desperately. 
Carr  watched  her  keenly.  He  struck  the  table  with 
his  open  palm.  "You  hate  that  man,  Ariadne!"  he 
blazed.  "That's  not  the  worst;  you  fear  him.  Isn't  it 
true?  You  must  tell  me." 

"I  cannot.  Let  us  go  back.  Donna  may  be  up,  ask- 
ing for  me.  She  is  not  well." 

"Just  one  moment.  I  don't  need  to  question  further 
about  him.  In  all  this  time  have  you  never  wished,  or 
attempted  to  get  away  from  them,  to  make  a  visit  to 
your  home?" 

"Oh,  yes.  It  was  only  yesterday  that  I  tried.  I  went 
to  Donna,  almost  beseeching  her-  She  stopped, 
confused. 

"Well?  "he  said  sternly. 

The  girl  did  not  dare  to  look  at  him.  "She  —  she 
said  it  would  cost  too  much." 

Carr  leaped  to  his  feet.  His  long  body  shuddered. 
"Yes,  we  had  better  go,"  he  ground  out  between  clinched 
teeth.  "I  shall  say  something  that  I  shouldn't,  if  we 
stay." 

He  strode  off,  scowling  at  the  stones  before  him. 
Ariadne  found  it  difficult  to  keep  pace. 

"Randy!"  she  panted  out  at  last,  "don't  walk  so 
fast.  And  don't  —  oh,  please  —  please  don't  keep  on 
looking  murderous.  It  doesn't  matter  about  me.  We 
have  had  such  a  lovely  morning  until  now." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  169 

He  caught  himself  together,  and  looking  down  into 
her  troubled,  pleading  face,  his  own  softened.  "I  am 
a  brute,"  he  said  contritely.  "Forgive  me,  little 
friend." 

They  had  passed,  by  this,  under  the  great,  medieval 
gateway  to  the  Binnenhof,  threading  by  smaller  arches 
into  a  long  row  of  cloisters,  now  lined  with  second-hand 
bookstalls  and  little  booths  of  antiques. 

"That  grim,  square  building  in  the  middle  is  called 
the  '  Hall  of  the  Knights ' ;  you  can  only  get  in  on  Thurs- 
days," Ariadne  stated,  anxious  to  prevent  her  compan- 
ion's relapse  into  scowl-producing  thought. 

"Be  careful!  Here's  a  car,"  she  warned  suddenly, 
and  with  the  cry  seized  him  by  the  arm.  Side  by  side 
they  flattened  themselves  to  an  incredible  thinness  against 
a  wall  of  the  narrow  arch. 

"It's  an  outrage  to  let  those  things  loose  in  here  !" 
the  man  flared  out  angrily.  But  when  Ariadne  mur- 
mured in  an  awestruck,  childish  voice:  "Suppose  we 
had  been  fat  ?"  he  threw  his  head  back  and  laughed  until 
the  cobbled  courtyard  reverberated. 

Well  pleased  that  the  gloom  was  shattered,  Ariadne 
literally  danced  out  into  the  quiet  street.  "Oh  !  there's 
the  gate  ;  it  is  open  !"  she  sang  joyously. 

Randolph  looked  inquiringly  from  left  to  right. 
"What  gate  ?  I  can't  see  anything  but  brick  arches." 

"Here  on  the  sidewalk  just  before  us.  That  iron  one 
with  spikes  ?  The  old  house  is  the  Mauritshaus ;  I 
wonder  if  I  dare  take  the  time  to  show  you  a  beloved 
friend?" 

"A  friend?  Surely  the  portier's  grandchild  doesn't 
live  in  there  ! "  he  observed  suspiciously. 

"I  must  have  forgotten  this  one  for  the  moment," 
replied  Ariadne,  with  lamb-like  meekness ;  then,  at  his 


170  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

sudden  look,  was  forced  to  turn  her  naughty,  dimpled 
face  away. 

As  she  passed  through  the  black  portals,  the  old  guard 
touched  his  cap. 

"I  come  here  so  often  that  they  have  begun  to  know 
me,"  she  explained,  with  a  nonchalant  wave  of  the 
hand. 

Randy  did  not  seem  pleased. 

"This  place  was  built  ages  and  ages  ago  by  Prince 
Maurice  of  Nassau  for  a  hunting  lodge,"  the  childlike 
voice  went  on. 

She  hurried  up  the  stone  steps,  again  nodding  to  official 
salutations,  and  within  doors  sped  with  familiar  direct- 
ness to  the  upper  floor.  Her  companion  had  begun  to 
lag.  Ignoring  him,  she  flew  on,  never  pausing,  until 
in  a  far  corner  she  came  to  a  dramatic  pause.  Her 
hands  fell  empty  to  her  sides,  she  drew  a  long,  deep  sigh 
of  assured  delight,  and  slowly  raised  her  eyes  to  a  single 
canvas. 

The  young  man  had  advanced  and  now  stood  behind 
her. 

"That  is  my  little  friend,  up  there.  I  come  here 
almost  every  day  to  talk  with  her.  Sometimes  I  think 
she  knows  and  watches  for  me.  I  want  her  to  know  you, 
too." 

Randolph  did  not  attempt  to  speak ;  they  stood  to- 
gether looking. 

The  wistful  face  of  the  painting  gazed  a  little  to  the 
right  pf  them,  as  if  at  that  very  instant  some  one  beyond 
had  spoken. 

It  was  a  girl's  face,  a  thing  built  up  of  immortal  radi- 
ance. The  adoring,  lifted  eyes  of  the  earthly  maiden 
were  not  more  luminous. 

"I  love  it  better  than  all  other  pictures,"  the  soft, 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  171 

earthly  voice  caressed.  "Not,  as  I  should,  because  its 
art  is  supreme,  but  for  its  human  girlhood,  its  pathos, 
and  its  wondering  innocence.  She  was  only  a  little 
milkmaid  from  one  of  the  farms  about  the  town  of  Delft, 
where  her  great  creator  Vermeer  lived  and  died. 
Grandma  would  say  at  once  that  she  was  not  of  gentle 
birth,  but  what  does  birth  matter  to  a  spirit  that  will 
never  die?" 

She  held  her  arms  out,  smiling. 

Randolph  breathed  hard  as  if  he  had  been  running. 
"She's  got  us  beaten,  Ariadne  !  When  you  and  I  have 
turned  back  to  Virginia  clay,  that  little  girl  will  still  be 
looking  past  us,  wondering.  Thank  you,  my  dear,  for 
thinking  me  worthy  to  stand  with  you  before  her." 

Without  self-consciousness,  he  lifted  Ariadne's  hand 
to  his  lips.  She  pressed  his  ringers  warmly.  As  they 
turned  at  last,  their  hands  did  not  separate.  They 
went  out  softly,  like  two  quiet  children,  into  a  day  which 
for  all  its  sunshine  seemed  just  at  first  an  unreality. 

When  they  had  reached  the  corner  of  the  Tournooi- 
veld,  the  girl,  looking  toward  the  Doelen,  cried  out: 
"I  do  believe  that's  Donna  sitting  in  the  sun.  I'm 
certain  that's  her  pink  parasol !" 

This  proved  to  be  the  case.  Even  more  gratifying, 
not  to  say  unusual,  it  was  Donna  cheerful  and  oblivious 
of  personal  vexations. 

"Oh  !  you  naughty  children ;  I've  caught  you  !"  She 
greeted  them  playfully,  peering  at  them  around  the 
edge  of  her  rose-colored  shade.  "Now  come,  'fess  up; 
what  mischief  have  you  been  planning?" 

"Among  other  things,  a  little  trip  over  to  Haarlem 
after  luncheon,"  confessed  Randolph,  with  sagacious 
pulchritude.  "That  is,  if  you  consent  to  go  with  us.  I 
want  to  see  what's  left  of  those  wide  stretches  of  tulips 


172  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

and  hyacinths  that  make  the  Dutch  post-cards  look  like 
a  kid's  paint-box." 

"I  think  it  would  be  lovely,"  consented  the  chaperon. 
"We  don't  want  to  start  too  early,  for  the  sun  is  warm. 
We  might  stop  over  there  for  dinner.  I've  heard  of  a 
Haarlem  hotel  where  one  can  get  seraphic  food." 

" Me  for  the  Seraph  Inn  ! "  laughed  Randy.  "There's 
a  moon  to-night.  The  drive  back  will  be  marvelous  ! " 

And  it  was  a  marvel  that  came  true.  Reality,  for  this 
once,  at  least,  outstripped  each  phase  of  promise.  At 
times  Ariadne  furtively  pinched  herself  just  where  her 
glove  stopped.  It  was  so  much  like  a  fairy  tale  that 
might  change  at  any  instant  into  rainbows.  They  did 
not  reach  "  Den  Haag  "  until  nearly  midnight. 

In  parting,  Ariadne  whispered  :  "Randy,  it's  been  the 
happiest  day  of  all  my  life  ! " 

His  strong  hands  threatened  to  mangle  hers  as  he 
murmured:  "Shall  it  be  again  the  morning  for  us  — 
Ariadne  of  Allan  Water  ?  " 

Her  eyes  said  Yes  even  before  the  quick  nod  of  assent. 
Wrenching  her  tingling  fingers  from  his  grasp,  she  ran  up 
to  her  room  and  all  the  way  her  young  heart  sang: 
"The  morning  —  in  the  morning." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THAT  night  it  was  Ariadne  who  could  not  sleep,  but 
her  soft,  Dutch  bed,  instead  of  being  a  gridiron,  became  a 
perfumed  barge  on  which  she  drifted  with  no  guidance 
but  dear,  half-remembered  moments  of  the  day. 

At  times  she  was  gliding  on  the  stream  of  Allan 
Water.  White  titi  trees  leaned  down,  and  great,  white 
butterflies  like  iris,  or  Dutch  caps,  poised  in  the  mid-air 
of  her  reverie.  Or  she  moved  slowly  on  a  narrower 
tide  along  one  of  the  bright  canals  that  cut,  like  a  scissor- 
blade,  into  the  glowing  tapestry  of  tulip  fields  near 
Haarlem.  Again,  as  sleep  drew  nearer,  she  was  upon  the 
still,  blue  waters  of  no  earthly  sea. 

Here,  by  just  bending  to  the  crystal  surface,  there 
appeared  slow,  phosphorescent  wavings,  piled  rocks  the 
hue  of  beryl,  fringed  with  silver  moss,  strange,  breathing 
sea-anemones,  and  moving  forms  that  would  have  risen 
had  she  dared  to  beckon  them. 

Under  the  spell  of  fantasy,  her  small  couch  flowered 
into  an  Eastern  galley.  She  heard  the  silken  swish  of 
draperies  and  knew  when  the  soundless  oars  dipped. 
Oh,  for  a  song  to  voice  this  languorous  happiness : 

"My  heart  is  like  a  singing  bird 

Whose  nest  is  in  a  watered  shoot, 
My  heart  is  like  an  apple  tree 

Whose  boughs  are  bent  with  thick-set  fruit, 
My  heart  is  like  a  rainbow  shell 

That  paddles  in  a  halcyon  sea  — " 


174  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

How  the  words  swayed  and  soothed  her  !  Surely  the 
poem  was  wrought  for  her  and  for  this  hour  ! 

"My  heart  is  gladder  than  all  these, 
Because  my  love  — " 

Sleep,  newly  startled,  dropped  her  starry  wand. 
Enchantment  wavered.  The  dreamer,  caught  back  to 
earth,  pressed  a  hot  cheek  into  her  pillow. 

"Of  course,  I  didn't  mean  love  ! "  she  told  that  drowsy, 
smiling  Other  Girl  severely.  "It  is  no  silly  love,  but  a 
real,  true  glorious  friendship  that  is  making  me  so 
happy !" 

The  Other  Girl  nodded  and  let  her  white  lids  droop. 

"Raise  me  a  dais  of  silk  and  down  ; 

Hang  it  with  fair  and  purple  dyes ; 
Carve  it  in  doves  and  pomegranates, 

And  peacocks  with  a  hundred  eyes ; 
Work  it  in  gold  and  silver  grapes, 

In  leaves  and  silver  fleurs-de-lys ; 
Because  the  birthday  of  my  life 

Is  come,  my  love  is  come  to  me." 

Now  she  sat  up  rigidly.  "This  sort  of  thing  won't 
do  at  all,  you  know  !"  she  remarked  aloud.  Rising,  she 
went  over  to  the  window.  There  were  several  all-night 
arc-lights  hanging  in  the  Tournooiveld.  Under  the 
shadow  of  every  tree  she  saw  a  tan-clad,  broad-shouldered 
figure  looking  up  at  her.  She  laughed  a  little  hysteri- 
cally. The  night  air  was  cold  and  had  a  restorative 
effect.  After  a  while  she  got  back  into  bed.  Now  she 
forced  herself  to  think  only  of  practical  things :  the  dress 
she  intended  to  put  on  in  the  morning,  and  just  where 
she  and  Randy  should  walk.  It  must  be  the  Bosch, 
that  quiet  wood  which  in  the  midst  of  the  busy,  little 
Dutch  capital  is  indeed  "a  green  thought  in  a  green 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  175 

shade."  She  had  begun  to  picture  the  very  way  in 
which  the  rich  tones  of  Randolph's  face  would  gleam 
against  sylvan  shadows,  when  a  sound  from  the  corridor 
drew  her  erect  and  tense,  listening,  with  that  almost 
superhuman  sensitiveness  that  belongs  to  the  night's 
deep  hours. 

She  had  no  idea  of  the  time ;  that  had  been  a  detail  too 
insignificant,  but  it  was  certainly  very  late.  She  heard 
footsteps  — •  intelligent,  stealthy  footsteps.  They  had 
paused  outside  her  door.  "Thank  heaven  that  I  bolted 
it!"  came  as  a  reassuring  thought. 

Who  could  it  be  who  wished  to  listen  at  her  door? 
Her  very  breathing  was  suspended.  There  was  some- 
thing that  lived  out  there,  something  that  stooped,  hold- 
ing its  breath  as  she  was  holding  hers.  Now  it  had 
turned  and  was  moving  from  her  with  feet  softly-shod, 
furtive,  and  on  tip- toe.  But  for  the  fact  of  his  being 
absent,  she  would  have  said  it  was  the  valet  Frangois. 

Yet  even  if  he  were  in  the  hotel,  why  should  he  care  to 
know  whether  or  not  she  slept?  She  lay  awake  for  a 
long  time,  but  the  sinister  footsteps  did  not  return. 
Finally,  worn  out  with  conjecture,  she  fell  asleep ;  and 
with  the  first  rays  of  the  welcomed  sun,  the  recollection, 
together  with  her  fears,  fled  among  other  shades  of 
night. 

As  she  dressed,  little  refrains  of  the  birthday  lyric 
danced  back  to  her  mind.  She  smiled  and  shook  her 
head  at  them,  but  they  only  flashed  their  iridescent 
wings  and  fluttered  a  little  farther  off. 

It  must  be  nearly  seven  o'clock  by  this  —  she  had 
learned  the  exact  moment  when  Peetje  played  Moses  to 
the  sparrows  and  when  the  old  portier  lighted  his  Napo- 
leonic cigar.  She  peeped  from  her  window,  sure  of  seeing 
them,  but  at  the  first  look  drew  back,  for  a  very  different 


176  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

figure  had  just  joined  them,  and  now  bent  broad  and 
courteous  shoulders  at  the  portier' s  side. 

She  stood  quiet,  surprised  and  a  little  frightened  at  the 
way  her  pulses  throbbed,  then,  putting  on  her  hat,  flew 
down  the  stairs  and  out  into  the  sun. 

"Ah,  there  you  are!"  cried  Randolph  joyously,  and 
strode  with  long  legs  toward  her.  The  portier  and  his 
dog  followed  at  a  less  tempestuous  rate  of  speed. 

"  I  was  just  telling  the  portier  that  you  and  I  knew  each 
other  as  children  at  home,"  said  the  Virginian,  taking 
Ariadne's  hand  in  a  brotherly  fashion. 

"Indeed  we  did,"  she  echoed  heartily,  then  turned  to 
the  little  portier  and  smiled.  "He  is  the  very  best  friend 
I  have  in  all  the  world." 

At  this  moment  a  lithe  shadow  passed  out  from  the 
hotel  and  came  to  a  pause  before  Ariadne.  "You  are 
to  go  to  Madame's  room  at  once,"  he  announced. 

Randolph  took  a  single  stride.  "What  do  you  mean 
by  speaking  in  that  tone  to  Miss  Skip  with?"  he  de- 
manded, in  a  voice  that  made  the  servant  shrink. 

"Pardon,"  he  muttered,  bowing  with  exaggerated 
humility.  "  I  was  in  haste.  I  did  not  think." 

"Well,  think  next  time,"  warned  Carr  threateningly, 
his  fingers  twitching. 

Ariadne  had  gone  white  to  the  eyelashes.  "Never 
mind,  Randy,"  she  interposed.  "He  probably  repeated 
the  message  as  it  was  given.  Is  my  stepmother  ill, 
Francois?" 

The  valet's  incipient  shrug  changed,  at  a  low  exclama- 
tion from  Randolph,  into  a  sort  of  cringe. 

"I  know  nothing,  Mademoiselle,  except  that  Madame 
desires  to  see  you  instantly." 

As  Ariadne  sped  indoors,  Carr  put  up  a  hand  to  check 
the  valet's  accompanying  flight. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  177 

"Look  here  !  Is  that  the  way  you  have  been  allowed 
to  address  Miss  Skipwith  ?" 

"No  harm  was  meant,  Monsieur,"  the  man  reiterated, 
kneading  his  pale,  yellowish  hands  together.  "It  was 
but  my  zeal  to  reach  Mademoiselle  before  she  should  go." 
He  darted  away  on  the  last  word,  the  American's  angry 
eyes  following. 

Old  Machem,  the  dog,  had  retreated  a  few  yards,  and 
sat  there  snarling,  and  giving  vent  to  low,  disapproving 
growls.  Now  she  trotted  back  to  her  master,  fawning 
about  his  feet. 

"He  is  a  bad  one,  dat  Frangois,"  grunted  the  portier, 
shaking  his  gray  head.  "De  master,  mademoiselle's 
stepfader,  and  dis  valet,  dey  arrive  last  night,  and 
madame  is  still  to  Haarlem.  Monsieur  was  anger,  Gott ! 
de  cursing  an'  de  langvidge  from  his  apartment  you 
never  heered  ! "  The  old  man  clasped  his  hands  and 
rolled  his  eyes  upward  at  the  memory.  "And  after  dat, 
when  monsieur  was  again  smooth,  the  valet  he  began  to 
creep,  and  whisper  among  our  domestiques,  wid  de  ques- 
tion, de  bribe  of  coins  —  de  —  de  —  insinuate  —  It  is 
mos'  sad  dat  so  angel  a  mademoiselle  as  Miss  Skeepvitt 
must  haf  concern  wid  doze  mans." 

So  long  a  speech  from  the  little  portier  was  unusual. 
For  the  most  part  his  acquired  languages  were  spurred 
only  to  short,  grammatical  flights,  but  no  inaccuracies  or 
lapses  into  Dutch  consonants  could  hide  his  deep  sin- 
cerity. 

"Mr.  Martel  is  the  husband  of  Miss  Skipwith's  step- 
mother only,"  explained  Carr,  as  to  an  equal.  "There 
is  no  blood  relationship,  I'm  glad  to  say." 

He  walked  back  slowly  into  the  hotel.  The  morning's 
walk  was,  he  knew,  already  a  forfeited  joy.  He  frowned, 
not  only  because  of  the  disappointment,  but  in  an 


178  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

attempt  to  apprehend  the  cause  of  such  violent  anger  on 
Martel's  part,  and  the  valet's  subsequent  activities  as  a 
spy.  The  mere  fact  of  Mrs.  Martel's  temporary  absence 
could  scarcely  account  for  it. 

At  the  top  of  the  first  short  flight  of  steps  he  hesitated. 
He  did  not  wish  to  go  back  to  his  disordered  room.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  hour  was  a  little  early  for  breakfast- 
ing, even  had  he  the  desire.  Glancing  into  the  lounge, 
he  saw  the  large  center  table  strewn  with  newspapers. 
The  room  was  apparently  empty. 

He  strolled  in,  but  before  he  had  reached  the  table 
became  aware  of  a  figure,  which,  rising  from  a  sequestered 
chair,  now  slowly  drew  near. 

"The  Levantine  Mixture,"  he  thought.  Ignoring  the 
other's  approach,  young  Carr  continued  his  progress 
toward  the  table.  At  the  corner  of  it,  the  two  came  face 
to  face. 

Martel  was  not  a  short  man,  but  standing  before  the 
American  he  needed  to  lift  his  long,  fringed  lids. 

"Your  name  is  Carr,  I  believe?"  the  low,  beautifully 
modulated  voice  began,  tentatively,  "of  —  er  —  pardon, 
but  I  find  those  Western  States  confusing." 

"I  am  Mr.  Carr.  What  business  can  you  have  with 
me?" 

"Shall  we  be  seated,  Mr.  Carr?"  suggested  the  voice, 
as  the  graceful  figure  turned  slightly  in  the  direction  of  a 
group  of  empty  chairs.  For  the  present  the  lounge  held 
no  other  guests. 

"Thanks,  I  prefer  to  stand." 

Martel  gave  a  small  gesture  of  resignation.  "My 
'business,'  as  you  put  it,  is  brief.  I  fear  you  may  not 
find  it  altogether  to  your  liking." 

"I  am  listening." 

"My  name  is  Martel,"  stated  the  other,  with  an 
imperceptible  heightening  of  manner. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  179 

"Even  if  that  is  a  fact,  it  fails  to  interest  me,"  observed 
Randolph,  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  the  man's  face. 

Martel's  long  lashes  flickered.  To  recover  poise,  he 
drew  out  his  jeweled  case,  and  extracting  a  cigarette, 
held  it,  unlighted,  in  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand. 

"I  do  not  wish  to  be  altogether  discourteous,"  he  now 
resumed,  with  his  accustomed  languid  ease  of  manner, 
"and  you  may  have  transgressed  through  ignorance." 

Now  he  lighted  the  white  tube,  taking  quite  a  time 
over  the  ceremony,  as  if  wishing  these  preliminary  words 
to  be  given  full  effect.  The  young  lawyer's  eyes  did  not 
move  from  his. 

"But  even  so  -  Martel  supplemented,  as  if  re- 
gretting this  necessity  of  correction.  "I  am  afraid 
that  you  owe  me  an  apology,  Mr.  Carr."  The  heavy 
lids  rose  suddenly,  but  not  the  slightest  change  had 
passed  across  the  Virginian's  countenance. 

After  waiting  in  vain  for  a  reply,  Martel  went  on : 
"I  see  that  I  shall  have  to  speak  even  more  plainly.  If 
you  can  understand  nothing  else,  Mr.  Carr  —  He 
gave  a  little  shrug  and  a  resigned  sigh.  "Your  conduct 
yesterday,  the  advantage  you  took  of  my  absence,  is 
inexcusable.  I  do  not  consider  you  a  desirable  acquaint- 
ance for  the  ladies  of  my  family." 

"No?"  questioned  Randolph,  in  a  sort  of  hurt  sur- 
prise. His  mouth  gave  one  spasmodic  twitch,  and  he 
needed  to  bite  his  inner  lip  to  hold  back  a  grin  of  apprecia- 
tion, the  Oriental's  acting  was  so  good. 

"And  who,  if  I  may  inquire,  do  you  consider  the  ladies 
of  your  family?" 

For  the  first  time  a  flush  mounted  to  Martel's  cheek. 
"That  is  a  deliberate  impertinence,  Mr.  Carr.  You  are 
entirely  aware  that  I  refer  to  my  wife,  Mrs.  Martel, 
and  stepdaughter,  Miss  Skipwith." 


i8o  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"I  recognize  —  Miss  Skipwith,"  Randolph  murmured. 
Now  it  was  he  who  lighted  a  cigarette,  taking  one  from  a 
humble  paper  package  and  igniting  it  with  a  leisurely 
enjoyment  that  equaled  Martel's.  His  young  face  was 
bland  and  it  would  seem  just  a  little  perplexed. 

Martel  felt  himself  losing  ground. 

"I  do  not  choose  to  fence  with  you,"  he  retorted. 
"All  you  need  to  understand  is  that  I  forbid  any  further 
attempt  on  your  part  to  hold  intercourse  either  with  my 
two  women  or  myself."  He  turned  on  his  heel  —  every 
curve  of  his  pliant  body  expressing  contempt  and  dis- 
missal. 

The  lawyer  made  no  effort  at  detention.  He  smoked 
placidly,  and,  still  standing,  lifted  the  newly  arrived 
Paris  edition  of  the  New  York  Herald. 

Martel  hesitated.  If  he  went  now,  it  could  be  with 
no  assurance  of  success,  yet  to  turn  back  betrayed  a  more 
obvious  defeat.  Suddenly  he  wheeled  back  to  his  enemy, 
hot  with  an  impulse  to  strike  the  insulting  paper  down. 
His  delicate  hand  was  lifted. 

Randolph's  next  words  though  low,  were  very  crisp 
and  clear. 

"Don't  you  think  it  about  time  to  call  that  bluff 
off?" 

The  other's  eyes  gleamed  angrily. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  cried.  Then,  with  a  quick 
glance  around:  "We  will  continue  this  discussion  in  a 
more  private  place." 

"Oh,  no,  we  won't,"  contradicted  the  American 
pleasantly.  "I've  got  all  that  I  want  right  now." 

"This  is  intolerable!"  said  Martel,  whose  face  had 
gone  ashen.  "I  refuse  to  listen  to  your  cowardly  in- 
sinuation." 

The  Paris  Herald  was  laid  back  softly.    The  young 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  181 

lawyer  lifted  eyes  that  were  now  bright  with  amusement 
and  a  certain  triumph. 

Martel  had  placed  one  hand  upon  the  table,  pressing 
until  the  finger  tips  were  flattened.  The  younger  man 
appeared  all  at  once  to  realize  his  entire  presence.  It 
was  still  a  gallant  front ;  from  the  gray-spatted  English 
boots  to  the  parting  of  the  sleek,  black  hair,  each  inch  of 
him  was  perfect.  Almost  it  seemed  regrettable  that  the 
semblance  must  be  pricked. 

"I  —  I  —  insist  upon  knowing  what  you  mean  by 
'bluff, '"  Martel  challenged  like  a  creature  self -driven  to 
destruction. 

Randolph  Carr  abandoned  his  light  tone : 

"Your  business  in  California  must  have  accustomed 
you  to  this  and  similar  terms,  I  think."  The  words 
came  like  blows.  "As  for  your  trying  it  on  with  me 
He  paused.  "I  am  junior  member  of  the  firm  of 
Harman,  Brown,  and  Company  of  New  York.  That's 
all  for  the  present,  Mr.  Constantine  Patredis  of  Adrian- 
ople." 

With  face  deliberately  averted,  Carr  waited  until  the 
other  had  disappeared.  He  stood  a  little  longer,  think- 
ing heavily.  Then  came  a  decisive  gesture,  and  crossing 
to  a  small,  open  desk  he  wrote  and  sealed  a  hasty  note. 
This  he  gave,  with  special  instructions,  to  a  hotel  servant, 
and  then,  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  he  had  not  yet  break- 
fasted, mounted  to  his  room  and  began  flinging  things 
into  a  dressing  case. 

At  the  moment  of  Randolph's  encounter  with  Martel 
in  the  lounge,  Ariadne,  on  an  upper  landing,  having 
knocked  for  the  third  time  at  her  stepmother's  door, 
entered  cautiously,  to  be  greeted  by  a  sound  of  hysterical, 
stifled  sobs.  Her  young  lungs,  so  recently  filled  with 


182  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

bright,  morning  air,  sickened  a  little  at  the  stale  scent  of 
violet  powder  and  lavender. 

All  the  windows  were  close  drawn.  At  first  she  could 
see  nothing;  she  knew  of  course  that  the  moans  came 
from  Mrs.  Martel,  who  was  in  bed,  and  gropingly  she 
made  her  way  in  that  direction. 

"  Oh,  Donna,  what  can  have  happened  ?  "  she  entreated. 
"Are  you  very  ill  ?  " 

"It's  a  wonder  I'm  not  d-d-dead,"  wailed  the  voice 
from  the  bedclothes.  The  tone  held  a  cadence  which 
said  that  it  was  entirely  the  stepdaughter's  fault. 

"May  I  not  open  a  window,  Donna?  This  close  air 
of  itself  is  enough  to  give  you  a  headache." 

"Yes  —  not  that  one,"  she  commanded  shrilly.  "The 
glare  would  strike  directly  into  my  eyes.  The  farthest 
one  —  down  there,  by  the  clothes- tree." 

Even  at  that  distance,  Mrs.  Martel  as  the  light 
streamed  in,  cowered  and  drew  the  sheet  up  to  her  face. 
At  Ariadne's  approach  she  slowly  lowered  it. 

"Don't  stand  there  like  a  bean-pole.  It  hurts  my 
neck  to  look  up  at  you.  Sit  on  the  bed." 

"You  have  not  told  me  yet—  '  the  troubled  young 
voice  began ;  Mrs.  Martel  broke  through  it. 

"I  never  lived  through  such  a  night !"  she  exclaimed. 
"  Connie  was  like  a  maniac  !  The  things  he  said  !  He 
wanted  to  put  all  the  blame  on  poor  me." 

"But  blame  for  what?" 

"For  allowing  that  young  Carr  to  speak  to  us  —  and 
going  on  a  long  drive  with  him  afterwards." 

She  put  her  fat  hands  down  beside  her,  trying  to  push 
herself  upward.  Ariadne  sprang  to  her  feet  and  assisted. 

"There!  that's  much  better,"  said  the  stepmother, 
panting  heavily  from  the  effort. 

" Oh,  why  did  we  do  it,  Ariadne  ? "  she  went  on.     "We 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  183 

should  remember  that  women  over  here  don't  go  about 
with  every  stranger  they  can  pick  up.  Connie  says  we 
have  disgraced  him  and  ourselves  at  the  Hague.  I 
never  saw  him  so  infuriated.  I  do  believe  he  is  jealous 
of  me  with  that  boy." 

At  this  thought,  a  fatuously  pleased  expression  over- 
spread her  countenance. 

"Mr.  Martel  must  be  out  of  his  senses,"  Ariadne  re- 
plied, in  a  cold  and  restrained  voice.  "Mr.  Carr  is  no 
stranger." 

"That's  what  I  told  him,  but  it  only  made  him  angrier. 
He  says  that  Randolph  Carr  is  not  the  sort  of  man  that 
decent  women  should  know.  Connie  has  been  making 
inquiries.  We  are  neither  of  us  to  speak  to  him  again." 

The  girl  said  nothing.  Mrs.  Martel,  peering  up  at 
her,  repeated  querulously  :  "Did  you  hear  me,  Ariadne  ? 
We  are  not  to  speak  to  him  or  notice  him  again." 

Still  Ariadne  fought  for  self-control  and  silence. 
Donna  was  not  a  pretty  sight  as  she  leaned  forward, 
her  much  be-ribboned  boudoir  cap  over  one  ear,  her 
pale  and  watery  eyes  trying  to  flash  forth  righteous 
indignation. 

"Oh,  I  must  get  away  for  a  while  —  I  can't  endure  it 
-  I  will  ask  Randy  to  help  me  !"  Ariadne  was  saying  to 
herself. 

"Don't  set  your  face  like  a  stone  when  I  am  talking," 
cried  the  stepmother.  "You've  never  acted  like  this 
before." 

"There  never  was  any  need  of  it  before,"  said  Ariadne. 

At  the  quiet,  clear  words,  and  the  tone  in  which  they 
were  spoken,  Mrs.  Martel  sat  gasping.  Could  this  be 
Ariadne,  the  meek,  submissive,  uncomplaining  Ariadne  ! 
"You  must  be  losing  your  mind!"  the  elder  woman 
cried  when  she  could  speak  at  all.  "Connie  is  right. 


184  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

That  man  is  trying  to  turn  you  against  us.  He's  just 
a  spy  —  that's  what  he  is  ! " 

"You  don't  think  it,  Donna,  even  though  Mr.  Martel 
lias  told  you  to  pretend  it." 

"Indeed  I  do  think  it.  I  know  it,"  defended  the 
stepmother  angrily.  "He  has  influenced  you  terribly 
already.  What  he  is  after  is  to  get  hold  of  your 
father's  money  ! " 

Ariadne  sat  like  a  carven  image. 

"You  wicked  girl!"  Mrs.  Martel  almost  screamed. 
She  was  getting  beside  herself  with  anger  and  the  deepen- 
ing touch  of  fear.  "You  are  wicked  to  him  as  well  as  to 
me.  You  know  perfectly  well  you  cannot  marry  him, 
or  any  other  man." 

The  door-handle  had  turned  very  softly.  Neither  of 
the  two  had  noticed  it.  Again  it  became  motionless, 
only  that  the  light,  curving  around  its  shining  brass 
surface  from  a  distant  window,  seemed  to  throb  and 
glitter  strangely. 

"I  don't  suppose  that  even  Randolph  Carr  can  per- 
suade you  to  break  a  promise  made  to  your  dying  father," 
added  Mrs.  Martel  vindictively. 

At  this  the  girl's  head  drooped.  The  watching  woman 
among  the  pillows  exulted  to  see  how  the  young  lids  had 
begun  to  quiver. 

"No  one  can  persuade  me  to  do  that,  Madonna,"  she 
returned  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  am  not  going  to  give  you  up. 
I  shall  still  keep  faith  with  you  and  my  father.  But 
just  lately  things  have  happened  that  I  can't  tell  even 
you  —  things  that  have  changed  — 

But  she  was  allowed  to  go  no  further.  Donna  almost 
hurled  herself  along  the  bed,  clutching  at  Ariadne's  arm. 
"Don't  dare  to  sit  there  talking  about  a  change.  Noth- 
ing can  change  the  fact  that  you  swore  never  to  give  me 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  185 

up,  that  it  is  stated  in  the  will,  and  that  Connie  and  I 
will  be  left  penniless  if  you  do?  Who's  that  at  the 
door?"  she  called  sharply.  Both  women  listened. 
There  was  no  sound  at  all.  Mrs.  Martel  crept  back  to 
her  pillows. 

"I  was  sure  I  heard  something  strike  against  the  door 
just  then,"  she  said,  with  a  frightened  look.  "It  must 
be  my  nerves.  This  dreadful  scene  has  left  me  as  weak 
as  a  cat." 

"I  think  I'll  go  back  to  my  room  now,  Donna,"  said 
the  girl. 

"Perhaps  you'd  better.  You  have  done  harm  enough 
for  one  day,"  rejoined  the  other  bitterly.  "Just  push 
that  button  for  Cummins  as  you  go." 

Ariadne  hurried  around  the  foot  of  the  bed,  already 
savoring  her  respite.  As  her  hand  lifted  to  the  electric 
bell,  another  sound  at  the  door,  this  time  an  unmis- 
takable knock,  sent  her  toward  it. 

The  rosy  face  of  Peetje  smiled  up  at  her.  "For  Mees 
Skeepvitt,"  he  announced,  offering  a  small,  silver  tray 
on  which  appeared  a  letter. 

"What  is  it?  A  note  for  me  from  Connie?"  ques- 
tioned Mrs.  Martel. 

"No,  it  is  mine,"  said  the  girl,  annoyed  to  feel  the 
crimson  rising  into  her  face. 

"Well,  open  it.  Don't  stand  there  all  day,"  adjured 
the  stepmother  querulously.  "It  may  be  something  to 
help  out  our  difficulties." 

After  a  struggle  the  girl,  realizing  that  it  was  wiser  to 
yield,  drew  out  a  hatpin  and  slit  the  upper  edge  carefully. 

"My  dear,"  it  began  (after  the  dating,  May  24th)  I 
am  leaving  the  Hague  at  once,  and  wish  it  to  appear  as  a 
permanent  move.  In  reality  I  shall  not  be  far,  and  hope 
to  return  next  Tuesday  at  latest,  and  may  have  startling 


1 86  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

news.  In  the  meantime,  keep  on  your  guard,  and  be 
extremely  careful,  for  my  sake  as  much  as  your  own. 
You  will  understand. 

"RANDY. 

"P.S.  You  said  last  night,  that  it  had  been  a  happy 
day  for  you.  I  shall  carry  it  like  a  banner  in  the  sun  for 
the  rest  of  my  life.  R." 

"Well,  well,"  exclaimed  Donna.  "Who  is  it  from? 
What  do  they  say?" 

"It  is  from  Mr.  Carr.     He  is  leaving  here  at  once.'r 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Martel.  "Connie  has  been 
giving  him  a  talking  to."  She  glowed  with  reflected 
virtue. 

Ariadne  got  from  the  room  at  last.  The  letter  was  a 
comfort,  but  the  tangled  lines  of  Fate  seemed  pulling 
and  charing  about  her  all  at  once.  She  could  not  lift  the 
lightest  wing  of  hope,  but  some  new  fetter  strained. 

At  the  steep,  upper  stairway  she  began  the  ascent  with 
such  a  dragging  heaviness  that  her  feet  might  suddenly 
have  become  twin  grandmothers  to  the  twinkling  pair 
that  had  flown  down  and  along  these  very  steps  only  an 
hour  ago. 

Donna  was  right :  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  happi- 
ness ;  she  would  be  wicked  to  let  him  hope  it,  even  were 
she  sure  he  wished  it.  No  matter  what  spell  he  wove 
around  her  with  his  eloquent  words,  his  pleading,  eager 
face,  there  was  a  ghostly  manacle  no  living  hand  could 
break.  The  binding  chains  might  give  a  little,  Randy's 
bright  eyes  might  search  out  flaws  in  every  link ;  but  the 
dull,  iron  ring  was  still  around  her  heart,  encysted,  a  part 
of  its  living  tissue. 


CHAPTER   V 

MRS.  MARTEL'S  long  morning  toilet  at  last  approached 
completion.  Her  faded  hair,  wound  by  the  maid's 
deft  fingers  into  many  substantial-looking  puffs,  rose  in  a 
curved  crescendo.  Her  hands  had  been  manicured,  and 
a  fine  dust  of  rice-powder  coaxed  into  the  somewhat  oily 
skin. 

The  mistress,  placing  both  elbows  on  her  dressing- 
table,  gazed  complacently  at  this  handiwork. 

"I  think  I  am  looking  better  to-day,  Cummins, 
decidedly  better." 

"It  was  what  I  'ave  been  thinking  myself,  Madame," 
agreed  the  servant,  as  she  stooped  for  a  fallen  comb. 
"Your  heyes  are  not  so  bag-like,  either." 

Mrs.  Martel  surveyed  the  "bags"  dispassionately. 
"Has  the  portier,  or  any  one  down-stairs  received  a  wire 
or  message  from  Mr.  Martel  ?" 

"I  couldn't  say,  Madame,"  was  the  answer,  supple- 
mented by  the  slightly  familiar  observation  "seeing  as 
I've  been  in  here  with  you  for  two  hours  gone." 

"That's  enough;  bring  me  a  dress,  Cummins,"  re- 
buked Mrs.  Martel. 

"Which  gown  is  it  to  be,  Madame?" 

"That  new  pongee,  with  the  brown  and  lavender 
embroidery.  My  complexion  can  stand  those  colors 
to-day;  besides,  you  can  get  me  into  it  mostly  sitting 
down." 


i88  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

As  the  chosen  garment  was  being  adjusted,  Mrs. 
Martel,  taking  up  an  amethyst  necklace  by  the  unfas- 
tened ends,  held  it  tentatively  against  her  throat. 
"Connie  said  that  he  might  get  back  this  morning," 
she  murmured,  speaking  more  to  herself  and  the  necklace 
than  to  Cummins. 

A  knock  came  to  her  door.  "  Entrez"  called  Donna, 
without  excitement,  scarcely  expecting  to  see  her  husband, 
for  the  rap  had  been  crisp  and  sharp.  But  it  was  he, 
smiling  and  so  immaculate  it  seemed  impossible  that  he 
could  have  just  quitted  a  train. 

"Oh,  Connie!"  she  welcomed,  wheeling  around  to 
him.  "When  did  you  arrive?" 

"This  minute,  by  motor." 

"How  very  nice!  Hurry,  Cummins.  Just  get  that 
waistband  together  and  I  can  do  the  rest  of  the  hooks. 
Won't  you  sit  down,  darling?"  This  smiling  request, 
being  obviously  intended  for  her  husband,  was  answered 
by  him  with  a  slight  negative. 

"Did  you  get  through  with  what  took  you  to  Rotter- 
dam?" she  persisted,  beaming. 

"Perfectly.     The  trip  was  a  complete  success." 

"Not  the  mon  —  "  she  had  struck  in,  when  a  warning 
nod  of  his  head  toward  the  maid  brought  abrupt  silence. 

"There,  she  is  gone  at  last,  thank  goodness!"  ex- 
claimed the  lady,  as  the  door  closed  decorously  on  Cum- 
mins' common  sense  English  heels.  "Now  we  can  talk  !  " 

"Not  in  here,"  said  the  man.  "We  will  go  into  the 
sitting-room.  This  is  disgustingly  stuffy.  Pah  !  Come, 
my  dear." 

She  followed  meekly.  He  closed  the  door  as  she  passed 
through  and  motioned  to  a  chair  into  which  she  sank 
obediently,  her  upturned  face  moving  slowly  in  which- 
ever direction  he  chanced  to  go.  Now  he  paused  beside 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  189 

a  heavy  center-table,  and  striking  one  of  the  magenta- 
colored  hotel  matches  upon  its  small,  brass-bound  box, 
lighted  the  inevitable  cigarette.  With  eyelids  closed 
against  the  sulphurous  glare,  and  lips  that  held  the 
white  fragment  of  tobacco,  he  mumbled :  "How  has  your 
stepdaughter  been  behaving?" 

Mrs.  Martel  prefaced  her  answer  by  an  audible  sigh. 
"About  as  usual,  except  that  she  turns  into  an  iceberg  if 
I  try  to  talk  about  that  man  Carr." 

"Can't  discuss  him,  too  sacred  and  all  that,"  Martel 
laughed  mockingly.  "Doesn't  she  resent  his  having 
left  her?" 

"She  doesn't  seem  to.  That  ridiculous  child  of  the 
por tier's  was  here  most  of  yesterday,  after  you  went. 
For  a  person  who  claims  to  be  a  Virginia  aristocrat, 
Ariadne  has  some  extremely  queer  tastes.  You  know 
how  foolish  she  has  always  been  about  peasant  children." 

The  man  seated  himself  indolently  upon  the  edge  of  the 
table.  "If  the  girl  is  both  cheerful  and  secretive,  you 
may  be  sure  that  she  doesn't  consider  this  affaire  de 
cceur  at  an  end,"  he  observed. 

"But  it  must  be  at  an  end,  Connie.  I  think  I  made 
that  plain.  I  didn't  mince  matters,  I  assure  you." 

"And  what  do  you  feel  that  you  have  accomplished  ?" 
The  question  was  gentle,  but,  like  his  laugh,  it  had  the 
touch  of  a  sneer. 

Mrs.  Martel  began  to  fidget,  picking  at  the  embroid- 
ered cuff  of  one  sleeve.  "  I  can't  be  certain.  In  fact  — 
she  burst  out  with  more  vehemence,  "I  don't  know  what 
to  make  of  her  at  all.  She  becomes  a  changed  creature 
if  I  try  to  say  another  word,  and  she  looks  at  me  as  if  I 
were  an  —  an  —  insect !  You  must  help  me,  Connie. 
I'm  at  my  wit's  end  !" 

"  Certainly,  my  dear.    That  is  my  husbandly  preroga- 


ipo  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

tive.  But  after  all,"  he  suggested  delicately,  "Ariadne 
is  of  age,  and  if  she  wishes  to  marry  — "he  finished  with  a 
gesture. 

"But  she  can't  marry.  That's  just  the  point.  She 
knows  she  is  pledged — "  The  words  broke  suddenly. 

"Pledged  to  what?  That's  rather  an  extraordinary 
thing  to  say.  I'm  afraid  I  do  not  understand,"  he 
drawled,  as  he  leaned  over  to  flick  off  an  ash. 

His  wife's  eyes  fell.  The  pendulous  face  was  becoming 
the  color  of  old  wax.  She  caught  in  her  breath  as  if  at  a 
sudden  terror.  "It's  something  about  her  father's  will. 
I  —  I  told  you  it  was  unusual.  He  was  so  devoted  to  me 
that  he  wanted  to  be  sure  I  would  never  be  lonely  - 

"Yes,  I've  had  a  few  such  maundering  hints  before," 
he  interrupted,  but  still  in  a  tone  of  pleasantry.  From 
the  beginning  of  the  interview  he  had  assumed  the  pose 
of  light  indifference ;  each  movement  was  suave,  unhast- 
ing,  and  full  of  his  peculiar,  Oriental  grace,  but  from  un- 
der the  long,  fringed  lids  his  eyes  had  watched  with  the 
cold  glitter  and  intelligence  of  a  snake.  "If  now  I  am  to 
help  you,  as  you  seem  to  wish,  it  is  necessary  for  me  to 
know  facts  as  they  are." 

"Yes,  darling,  I  can  see  that,"  she  answered  beseech- 
ingly. "Ariadne  can't  get  married  because  of  a  promise 
she  made  her  dying  father." 

"A  promise  she  made?"  repeated  Martel,  as  if  in 
surprise.  His  underlids  tightened.  For  the  first  time  a 
hint  of  cruelty  came  into  his  face.  "Until  now  I  have 
always  been  told  that  it  was  your  promise  to  my  for- 
tunate predecessor  that  made  this  touching  bond  between 
you  and  his  daughter.  You  said  repeatedly  that  she 
would  be  a  beggar  if  we  turned  her  adrift.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

Mrs.  Martel's  face  sagged  lower.  She  quivered  as 
with  physical  fear  and  began  to  move  her  elaborately- 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  191 

dressed  head  from  side  to  side.  "Of  course,  that's  true  — • 
in  a  way  -  "  she  began  hesitatingly,  "but  there  is  more 
of  it.  Oh  !  Connie,"  she  cried  desperately,  fawning  up 
at  him,  "I'm  afraid  I  haven't  been  entirely  straightfor- 
ward. Ariadne  has  always  said  you  ought  to  have  been 
told  the  truth.  Oh,  Connie,  you  know  how  I  love  you  — 
how  I  think  of  nothing  but  you." 

"Let  us  dispense  with  the  tremolo,"  said  the  man. 
""I've  known  all  along  that  you  were  hiding  something. 
Suppose  you  tell  me  now." 

In  broken,  disjointed  words,  with  many  irrelevant 
outbursts  of  self-blame  and  appeals  to  his  forgiveness, 
she  told  him  at  last  their  full  dependence  upon  the  young 
girl's  loyalty.  In  finishing,  she  covered  her  face,  sobbing 
out  that  she  had  withheld  nothing,  and  praying  that  he 
would  not  be  too  hard  upon  her  for  the  past  years  of 
deception. 

Martel's  expression  had  not  changed  by  the  flicker  of 
an  eyelash.  Indeed,  at  times  he  scarcely  seemed  to  be 
listening,  being  intent  upon  more  vital  thoughts  within. 
She  heard  him  move  down  from  the  table. 

"Oh,  Connie  —  dear,  darling  Connie  —  I  cannot  bear 
your  silence.  Say  something  —  anything !  Tell  me 
you  don't  hate  me  !"  He  eluded  her  outstretched  arms 
by  an  inch. 

"That  must  depend  on  what  you  are  willing  to  do  to 
get  us  out  of  it,"  he  said  cryptically.  "I  must  think 
now."  Suddenly  he  threw  his  head  back,  laughing. 

The  woman  cowered  again.  "Don't  laugh  like  that ! 
It  is  too  horrible  !"  she  shuddered. 

"Not  at  all.  The  mirth  is  genuine.  I  was  only 
reflecting  how  true  it  is  that  we  sometimes  build  better 
than  we  know." 

"I  —  I  —  don't  understand,"  she  whimpered. 


i92  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"You  will  in  a  moment.     No,  stay  where  you  are." 

She  kept  her  face  in  her  hands,  listening  to  his  long, 
slow  step  as  he  paced  the  length  of  the  room.  Twice  he 
passed  her.  Her  very  soul  held  out  its  arms  to  him,  but 
her  body  dared  not  move.  At  the  third  return  he  came 
to  a  standstill. 

"You  have  been  rather  seedy  of  late.  Don't  you 
think  a  drive  would  do  you  good  ?"  he  asked. 

For  a  moment  she  could  only  stare.  She  had  expected 
any  tone  but  this.  "Why  —  yes.  Of  course  it  would," 
she  managed  to  stammer  at  last. 

"To  be  candid,  I  am  not  thinking  of  you  alone,"  he 
explained.  "This  is  part  of  a  plan  already  formed.  I 
presume,  under  the  circumstances,"  he  added,  with  a 
curious  look  from  under  the  long  lashes,  "I  do  not  take 
too  much  for  granted  in  believing  that  you  will  be  glad 
to  follow  my  instructions." 

"Oh,  Connie.  Don't  be  cruel !  You  know  I  will  do 
anything  —  anything  on  earth  you  say." 

"It  is  not  for  our  own  sakes  merely,  understand  that, 
Donna  !  I  feel  that  we  must  take  drastic  steps  to  coun- 
teract Ariadne's  imprudence.  She  has  already  seriously 
compromised  herself  and  us  here  at  the  Hague !" 

Donna's  eyes  drooped  for  shame. 

"This  man  Carr  is  not  the  sort  of  person  she  should 
have  been  allowed  to  encourage.  I've  been  making 
inquiries.  He  is  a  bad  lot,  I  should  say.  Naturally,  a 
girl  could  not  know  such  things.  It  takes  a  man  to 
find  them  out.  But  I  will  do  Ariadne  the  justice  to  say 
she  can  be  reasonable.  If  I  can  manage  to  get  her  off 
alone,  to  some  place  \vhere  she  cannot  avoid  me  or  refuse 
to  listen  quietly,  I  can  soon  convince  her  of  his  worth- 
lessness.  It  is  in  securing  such  an  opportunity  for  plain- 
speaking  that  you  can  be  of  the  very  greatest  service." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  193 

The  woman  waited  an  instant  to  see  if  he  had  finished ; 
then  clasping  her  hands  and  lifting  pale,  adoring  eyes  to 
his  face,  she  reiterated  fervently.  "  There  is  nothing  you 
may  not  ask  me.  Oh,  my  dear  husband,  you  are  the 
noblest  and  most  generous  man  alive." 

"Good  old  girl!"  he  exclaimed,  patting  her  shoulder 
lightly.  "Just  stick  to  that,  and  we  shall  soon  rescue 
ourselves  and  our  daughter.  Now,  listen  carefully!" 

He  drew  a  second  chair  so  close  that  she  could  feel  the 
warmth  of  him.  The  faint  odor  of  perfume  and  tobacco 
flowed  through  her  senses  like  an  anaesthetic.  She 
leaned  toward  him,  almost  faint  with  the  ecstasy  of  this 
new  and  intimate  bond.  At  last  they  were  working 
together  for  a  common  good.  The  man  talked  rapidly. 
His  low,  silken  voice  seemed  dragging  across  her  prostrate 
soul. 

"Yes,  yes  —  I  will  do  it.  Yes,  I  can  remember  every- 
thing," she  would  whisper  in  the  pauses  of  the  intoxicat- 
ing sound.  "You  may  rely  on  me  to  do  it  all,  exactly  as 
you  have  described.  It  is  little  enough  compared  with 
what  you  have  forgiven  me.  And  as  for  that  wretched 
girl,"  she  cried,  when  the  wonderful  conference  was  at  an 
end,  "she  does  not  deserve  that  you  should  take  all  this 
trouble  to  save  her  from  a  common  fortune-hunter!" 

"Now  I  must  go  to  my  room,"  stated  the  Oriental  St. 
George.  "I  suppose  that  Ariadne  will  condescend  to 
appear  at  luncheon  ?" 

"Of  course,"  answered  Donna.  "She's  been  coming 
to  all  her  meals.  Why  shouldn't  she  appear?" 

The  man  laughed.  "A  girl  in  love  is  notably  capri- 
cious. You  must  be  careful  in  the  way  you  open  the 
subject  of  our  drive." 

"You  just  watch  and  see  how  tactful  I  can  be,"  she 
vaunted.  "Oh,  Connie!" 


i94  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN   WATER 

Now  she  dared  stretch  out  arms  of  longing.  She  even 
hoped  a  little  that  he  might  kiss  her,  but  with  a  pleasant 
nod  and  a  murmured  "Au  revoir  !"  he  turned  and  left. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Martel  were  already  seated  as  Ariadne 
entered  the  dining-room. 

The  girl  took  her  accustomed  seat  in  silence,  returning 
by  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head  her  stepmother's 
vivacious  greeting.  Martel  did  not  speak  to  her  at  all. 
For  this  she  was  duly  grateful.  She  could  not  eat,  and 
finally  abandoning  all  pretense,  leaned  back  in  her  chair 
and  gazed  out  through  the  great,  shining  window-panes 
to  the  crowded  garden,  where  yellow  acacia  trees  and 
tufted  lilacs  stood  on  tip-toe  to  wave  their  lovely  wares 
against  the  glass. 

She  had  almost  forgotten  her  companions  when  an 
impatient  sound  from  Mrs.  Martel  and  a  sharp  plucking 
at  the  sleeve  recalled  her. 

"Ariadne!  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  —  sitting 
there  staring  like  an  idiot?  People  are  beginning  to 
notice.  I've  spoken  to  you  twice." 

"Yes,  Donna.  I'm  very  sorry.  What  was  it  you 
were  saying?" 

"  Connie  has  hired  a  lovely  car  —  a  special,  and  wants 
us  to  have  a  little  drive  this  afternoon." 

The  girl,  still  half -submerged  in  reverie,  was  so  long  in 
replying  that  Mrs.  Martel,  shaking  her  arm  again,  said : 
"Do  you  understand?  We  are  to  start  immediately 
after  tea." 

The  girl  gave  a  little  sigh  and  came  back  to  the  present. 
"Can't  Mr.  Martel  go  with  you,  Madonna?" 

Martel  replied  for  himself.  "Unfortunately,  no.  I 
have  promised  a  chap  over  at  the  Hotel  des  Indes  to 
have  a  game  of  billiards." 

"I  need  a  drive  frightfully,"  exclaimed  Donna,  "but  I 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  195 

certainly  do  not  intend  going  alone."  Her  double  chins 
quivered. 

"Very  well  then.  I  shall  be  ready,"  said  the  girl  in  a 
colorless  tone. 

Mrs.  Martel  flashed  a  little  look  of  triumph  at  her 
husband.  His  response  was  an  imperceptible  frown. 
Thoughtfully  he  tilted  the  stem  of  his  tall  wine  glass, 
gazing  down  into  it.  His  beautiful,  sinister  face  was  as 
empty  as  the  crystal  cup. 

For  once  Donna  was  ready  before  the  time.  As 
Ariadne  reached  the  entrance  door,  her  stepmother  stood 
just  within  it,  admiring  the  big  car,  and  chattering  to  any 
or  every  one  who  cared  to  listen  of  Mr.  Martel' s  thought- 
fulness  in  securing  so  splendid  a  vehicle. 

"Well,  here  you  are  at  last !"  she  cried,  as  she  caught 
sight  of  Ariadne.  "  I  am  glad  you  wore  your  new  motor- 
bonnet.  Gracious !  What  long  strings !  That  little 
cluster  of  pink  roses  at  the  side  is  too  adorable." 

"I  love  this  color  of  gray-blue.  But  then  you  always 
get  me  pretty  clothes,  Donna,"  answered  the  girl,  smiling. 

The  little  portier  was  behaving  very  strangely.  He  had 
gone  round  and  round  the  car  much  as  a  small  dog  circles 
a  formidable,  large  one,  and  paused  each  time  at  the 
front,  where  a  much  begoggled  chauffeur  slouched 
suddenly,  as  if  resenting  the  inspection. 

"Why,  it  is  a  limousine  !"  cried  Ariadne  in  surprise. 
"We  don't  need  a  closed  car  on  so  warm  an  afternoon." 

"  Connie  thought  an  open  one  might  be  too  exposed  for 
me,"  explained  Mrs.  Martel  glibly.  "Besides,  the  clouds 
are  blowing  in  from  the  sea.  It  may  rain  before  we  get 
back." 

She  moved  toward  the  car.  The  portier  darted  for- 
ward to  hold  the  door  open.  At  her  last  words  he  threw 
his  grizzled  head  backward,  staring  up  toward  the  sky. 


196  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"  Is  it  to  be  a  long  drive,  Madame  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

"I  am  not  sure  —  that  is — "  she  corrected  herself 
hastily,  "it  depends  on  how  I  feel.  I've  been  rather 
poorly,  as  you  know.  Come,  Ariadne,  what  are  you 
waiting  for  ! " 

The  portier  did  not  stand  aside.  "  You  will  do  best  not 
to  drive  far,  Madame,"  he  repeated  with  such  earnestness 
that  Mrs.  Martel  gave  an  exclamation  of  annoyance. 
She  rustled  in,  leaving  a  trail  of  perfume,  and  gave 
Ariadne  an  imperious  sign  to  follow.  In  contrast  to  her 
usual  custom,  she  took  the  corner  farthest  away. 

The  portier,  now  forced  to  step  aside,  leaned  over  sud- 
denly toward  the  driver  and  said  a  few  low  words  in 
Dutch.  He  was  answered  gruffly  in  the  same  language. 
Instinctively  the  little  man  threw  out  a  hand  toward 
Ariadne,  the  other  he  ran  wildly  through  his  hair.  The 
girl  stared  down  at  the  excited  old  face  in  wonder,  but  at 
her  stepmother's  angry  summons,  brushed  past  him  and 
entered.  Instantly  the  car  curved  out  toward  the 
Tournooiveld. 

The  portier  watched  it,  his  brows  making  a  thatched 
roof  over  his  keen  eyes.  Scarcely  had  it  gained  a 
thoroughfare  when  he  saw  a  man,  Mr.  Martel,  moving 
quickly  toward  it  from  the  opposite  direction.  He  had 
signaled  the  driver.  The  car  never  quite  came  to  a 
standstill.  Martel  sprang  in  from  the  farther  side. 
Through  the  glass  the  portier  could  see  the  figure  of  Miss 
Skipwith.  She  had  risen  at  once  and  was  trying  to  open 
the  door  beside  her.  The  chauffeur,  all  cap-brim  and 
leathern  mask,  flung  his  whole  body  half-way  to  the  right 
and  seemed  to  lock  the  door.  The  girl's  figure  sank  out 
of  sight.  The  car  leapt  forward  with  a  burst  of  speed 
that  made  pedestrians  scatter.  "Gott!"  cried  the  old 
man,  rushing  back  into  the  house. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  197 

Within  the  car,  Ariadne  was  saying:  "You  must  let 
me  out.  There  is  no  need  for  me  if  Mr.  Martel  is  going. 
I  will  only  crowd  you." 

"  Crowd  us  !"  echoed  the  stepmother,  with  an  hysteri- 
cal laugh.  "Why,  you  and  I  were  positively  rattling 
around  on  this  enormous  seat.  I  am  only  too  thankful 
that  Connie's  man  didn't  turn  up,  and  he  is  here  to  help 
us  stay  in." 

"I  can't  go.  Do  you  hear  me  ?  I  can't.  I  won't !  " 
cried  Ariadne,  in  a  low,  fierce  voice. 

She  attempted  again  to  rise.  Martel  did  nothing  to 
restrain  her,  but  the  rapidly  increasing  motion  along 
cobbled  streets  soon  flung  her  backwards.  She  was 
literally  wedged  between  Martel's  right  shoulder  and  the 
car. 

Donna,  her  teeth  chattering  with  excitement,  leaned 
around  from  his  further  side.  "Be  still,  I  tell  you  !" 
she  almost  screamed.  "You've  put  us  through  too  much 
already.  I  insist  upon  your  behaving  yourself  for  once 
like  a  rational  human  being." 

Ariadne  became  quiet.  For  the  moment  struggle  and 
opposition  were  worse  than  useless.  It  was  best  to  feign 
acceptance  of  the  situation.  She  huddled  back  into  her 
corner,  shrinking  as  far  from  Martel  as  the  narrow  space 
permitted.  After  all,  Donna  was  with  them.  He  would 
scarcely  attempt  to  repeat  the  Dordrecht  scene  before  his 
wife. 

With  the  clearing  of  her  mind  the  girl  began  to  realize, 
as  she  believed,  the  motive  for  this  detestable  conspiracy. 
It  was  a  trick,  of  course.  They  had  known  from  the 
first  that  Martel  was  coming.  They  had  planned  it, 
doubtless  thinking  to  find  a  way  in  which  she  would  be 
forced  to  listen  quietly  to  renewed  warnings  and  accusa- 
tions against  Randy.  She,  like  a  foolish,  absent-minded 


198  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

rabbit,  had  walked  into  the  trap  and  must  now  accept  the 
consequences.  "It  cannot  really  matter  what  they  say 
of  him,"  she  reasoned.  "  Donna  is  only  a  mouthpiece 
and  an  echo  of  this  terrible  man  beside  me.  I  need  not 
even  listen.  I  will  be  going  over  and  over  in  my  heart 
the  hours  that  Randy  and  I  have  spent  together." 

Her  thoughts  thus  turned  almost  desperately  inward, 
Ariadne  scarcely  noticed  the  flying  world  without. 
Glancing  now  though  her  window,  she  saw  that  the  town 
had  been  left  and  they  were  on  a  long,  tree-lined  avenue 
that  suggested  Hobbaema,  where  villas,  surrounded  by 
many-colored  gardens,  alternated  with  copses  of  small 
trees.  The  houses  flashed  by  at  longer  intervals.  The 
little  forests,  blurred  in  their  own  green,  and  beginning  to 
darken  under  the  gathering  blackness  of  clouds,  seemed 
all  at  once  to  converge.  The  road  grew  narrow  and  had 
sharper  turnings.  Few  other  vehicles  passed  them. 

In  the  limousine  no  further  words  had  been  spoken. 
The  atmosphere  was  charged  and  tingh'ng  with  dynamics 
deliberately  suppressed.  The  girl  wondered  nervously  at 
their  reticence.  She  longed  to  have  the  ordeal  over. 
Perhaps  they  had  selected  some  sylvan  road-house  or 
"Pavilion"  where  Martel's  slow  eloquence  might  have  a 
more  aesthetic  setting.  This  conjecture  appeared  so 
plausible  that  when  the  car  began  to  slacken  its  hitherto 
high  speed  she  had  no  thought  of  menace.  Her  imagina- 
tion had  become  a  conscious  boon.  Until  these  two  so 
near  and  so  strangely  silent  should  see  fit  to  begin  their 
odious  invective,  she  could  at  least  look  out  from  her 
own  side  of  the  car,  feeling  the  actual  scene  as  one  is 
subconscious  of  the  background  of  a  cinema  play,  while 
all  real  interest  follows  the  motions  of  the  human  actors. 
For  her  the  entire  universe  had  become  a  film  on  which 
memory  threw  a  single  figure. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  199 

It  was  with  the  sensation  of  a  sleeper  awakened  by  a 
sound  already  passed,  yet  of  the  instant,  that  she  came 
back  to  the  present.  The  motor  was  almost  at  a  stand 
still,  though  the  engines  seemed  to  throb  impatience 
at  the  check.  Donna  got  quickly  to  her  feet.  Martel 
flung  back  the  door  with  his  left  hand.  Ariadne,  spring- 
ing up,  moved  toward  it.  Mrs.  Martel  was  on  the  step. 
Martel,  with  a  single,  powerful,  backward  sweep  of  his 
right  arm,  flung  the  girl  down  to  her  seat.  The  machine 
bounded  forward  as  if  a  spur  had  pricked  it.  A  cry  came 
from  Donna.  She  had  fallen  heavily.  Neither  Martel 
nor  the  driver  seemed  to  hear.  The  car  raced  on  with 
the  left  door  banging.  Ariadne,  with  one  low,  terrible 
cry,  hurled  herself  upon  Martel  and  fought  for  her  life. 

Still  in  a  nightmare  clutch  the  girl  struggled.  Martel's 
arms  were  around  her.  With  his  weight  he  dragged  her 
to  him.  The  car  swayed.  The  driver,  leaning  far  to  the 
left,  caught  at  the  door  with  his  hand  and  slammed  it. 

The  two  pent  figures,  locked  in  a  silent,  hideous  com- 
bat, swayed  with  the  flying  car.  Now  on  her  feet,  now 
flung  from  side  to  side  —  again,  half -escaped  and  one 
arm  free,  the  girl  fought  furiously.  The  car  was  a  meteor 
in  space  and  no  road  was  under  it,  no  arching  sky  above. 
It  was  a  thing  detached,  a  missile  demon-spent  through 
shadows ;  only  it  swerved  a  little,  now  to  one  side  and 
then  to  the  other.  And  the  locked  figures,  too,  wavered 
back  and  forth.  There  were  moments  when  the  girl's 
slim  strength  would  seem  victorious.  No  jungle  beast 
at  bay  ever  struggled  more  fiercely.  The  other,  that 
deadly,  dangerous  Thing  that  clung  about  her,  struggled 
not  at  all.  His  object  was  to  tire,  to  gain  his  victory  by 
an  inertia  as  desperate  and  far  more  potent  than  her  own 
primitive  defense.  She  realized  defeat,  but  fought  on 
silently.  To  hurl  herself  from  the  car,  even  through 


200  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

shattered  glass,  was  her  one  passionate  wish.  She  man- 
aged to  free  one  hand  and  reach  behind  her  for  the  open- 
ing lever  of  the  door.  It  might  have  been  the  handle  of 
Siegmund's  sword  in  the  oak.  There  was  one  chance  yet. 

"Driver!  Chauffeur!"  she  screamed,  beating  with 
her  body  against  the  window-frame.  The  man  in  front 
pushed  back  his  cap,  removed  the  great  goggles,  and 
looked  around  at  her.  And  now  indeed  the  fear  of  death, 
and  worse  than  death,  gripped  Ariadne's  soul,  for  it  was 
Francois'  face  peering  horribly  through  the  glass. 

She  sank  back  helplessly  to  the  cushioned  seat. 
Martel,  releasing  her,  also  sat  upright.  He  rearranged 
his  cuffs,  bestowing  special  care  upon  the  small  watch- 
bracelet  which  had  gone  awry,  and  laughed  softly. 
Ariadne  leaned  back,  waiting  until  the  faintness  and  the 
long,  shuddering  sobs  of  exhaustion  should  have  passed. 

Not  once  did  her  eyes  close.  She  sat  staring,  trying 
desperately  to  think,  trying  to  find  something  she  could 
say  to  such  a  man. 

Martel  took  out  his  cigarette  case.  All  of  his  old  ease 
and  languor  had  returned;  but  Ariadne  knew  the 
crouching  jaguar  within  him. 

"Mr.  Martel?"  she  said  to  him  at  length. 

"Yes,  my  dear." 

"Why  have  you  done  a  thing  like  this  ?" 

No  answer.  He  was  busy  with  a  match,  but  at  the 
moment  of  lighting,  the  girl  saw  the  swift,  sidewise  flash 
of  his  look  and  the  twitch  of  prehensile  fingers. 

"I'm  not  going  to  try  it  again ;  I  see  that  it's  useless." 

"Now  you  are  talking  like  a  rational  being." 

"If  you  have  brought  me  here,  if  you  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  plan  all  this  just  to  force  me  into  listening  to 
what  you  wish  to  say  of  Mr.  Carr,  I  will  listen  quietly. 
I  will  try  to  think  it  is  as  Madonna  says  —  that  you 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  201 

mean  it  kindly  —  only  let  us  speak  and  hurry  back  to 
Madonna.  She  fell  and  may  have  hurt  herself  in  getting 
out." 

Martel  seemed  pleased.  "That's  very  nice  of  you. 
But  my  —  er  —  plans,  as  you  call  them,  now  include 
more  than  mere  conversation,  even  on  so  delightful  a 
theme." 

"Where  are  you  taking  me?  What  did  you  tell 
Madonna  to  make  her  willing  to  leave  me?" 

He  leaned  his  dark,  shiny  head  against  the  cushions. 
They  had  passed  from  woods  into  an  open  road.  Though 
clouds  were  gathering,  there  was  still  clear  daylight. 
The  speeding  car  was  filled  with  it. 

"Two  questions  at  one  breath  !  You  seldom  are  so 
generous,  my  Ariadne.  As  to  my  answers,  I  prefer  that 
you  should  wait  and  see  where  I  am  taking  you.  Why 
dull  the  edge  of  a  pleasant  surprise  ?" 

He  paused  and  flecked  the  ash  from  his  cigarette. 
Part  of  it  blew  across  Ariadne,  dusting  the  dark  blue  of 
her  skirt. 

"A  thousand  pardons  !"  he  murmured,  and  taking  a 
handkerchief  from  his  cuff,  brushed  it  delicately.  Ariadne 
forced  herself  to  be  still.  She  said  nothing  more,  and 
after  a  pause,  Martel  went  on  : 

"Yes  —  there  was  the  second  question  —  one  concern- 
ing our  dear  Madonna.  This  scarcely  needs  an  answer, 
I  should  say.  You  have  only  to  recall  her  trustfulness, 
one  of  those  charming  attributes  of  youth,  and  though 
this  may  seem  boasting,  her  entire  devotion  to  my 
unworthy  self." 

This  time  her  shudder  of  loathing  was  harder  to  con- 
ceal. He  had  her  at  his  mercy.  She  would  have  to 
listen,  no  matter  what  he  said.  But  even  his  venom 
must  wear  itself  away  soon.  He  would  not  keep  Donna 


202  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

long  waiting  at  the  roadside,  especially  when  the  pre- 
dicted storm  was  threatening  to  break  at  any  moment. 

The  car  slowed  in  pace  somewhat.  The  man  did  not 
move  closer,  but  she  knew  by  instinct  that  his  vigilance 
had  increased.  A  few  houses  flew  past  them.  The  open 
square,  a  small  settlement,  with  a  church  facing  it ; 
canal  bridges,  and  a  few  boats,  all  flashing  by  as  in  the 
twirl  of  a  mirror.  Then  again  an  open  road  and  a  green 
blur  of  endless  marshes.  No  possible  help  could  have 
come  to  her  in  the  little  village.  Ariadne  had  often 
heard  of  the  sullen  hatred  cherished  by  these  provincial 
Dutch  communities  toward  all  English-speaking  peoples. 
To  them  Americans  and  Britons  were  the  same.  The 
Boer  losses  in  South  Africa  had  been  real  to  many  of 
these  toylike  homes.  Yet,  when  the  village  was  behind 
them  and  the  speed  of  the  car  increased,  she  felt  an 
added  sense  of  hopelessness. 

If  the  sleek  silent  creature  would  only  talk  and  be 
through  with  it.  If  only  he  would  not  smile.  Desper- 
ately she  turned  to  him. 

"If  you  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  me,  let  us  turn 
back  before  the  storm  comes.  We  can't  leave  Madonna 
in  the  wood  much  longer  —  and  I  —  I  am  horribly 
afraid  of  lightning." 

"  So  feminine  ?  "  he  said,  lifting  his  brows.  "  I  must  try 
to  find  you  a  shelter." 

"On  this  endless  marsh?"  she  exclaimed.  "We've 
passed  the  last  house  toward  the  sea,  I  know.  Please, 
please  let  us  turn  back  now." 

She  knew  her  pleading  voice  was  honey  to  his  oft- 
wounded  vanity.  She  hated  her  own  words  as  they 
came,  but  some  way  must  be  found  to  reach  him. 

He  made  no  answer.  She  did  not  dare  to  look  at  his 
face. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  203 

"At  least  then,"  she  broke  out  more  vehemently,  "let 
me  know  just  what  you  want  of  me,  so  we  can  under- 
stand each  other." 

"All  in  good  season,  my  dear  girl.  One  does  not  sip  a 
vintage  as  the  Dutch  swallow  the  milk  of  their  cows." 

"If  by  a  vintage  you  mean  my  distress  and  humilia- 
tion, surely  you  have  it  now,"  said  the  girl. 

"Yes  ?  But  that  is  such  a  little  part  of  what  I  mean," 
he  murmured.  "Be  patient,  girlie,  one  loses  much  in 
taking  a  new  experience  too  quickly." 

"What  —  what  —  do  you  mean  by  a  new  —  experi- 
ence?" she  faltered.  At  the  shrinking  horror  in  her 
eyes,  he  smiled. 

"I  believe  you  begin  to  know,  my  ice-maiden." 

Suddenly  she  struck  with  all  her  might  upon  the  pane. 
A  long  diagonal  of  light  showed  in  the  glass  and  stayed 
there.  Martel  flung  down  his  cigarette  and  caught  her. 

"I've  been  watching  for  that,"  he  said,  but  very 
quietly.  "Now  I  shall  have  to  hold  this  fierce  little 
hand.  Just  think  how  you  might  have  disfigured  it." 
He  bent  above  it  tenderly,  but  the  girl,  with  a  low  cry  of 
disgust,  caught  it  away. 

"Are  we  to  have  another  contest  at  jiu-jitsu,  then?" 

For  one  terrifying  moment  she  thought  that  uncon- 
sciousness was  coming.  This  she  must  ward  off,  what- 
ever the  cost.  She  sat  forward,  gasping.  When  her 
brain  cleared,  Martel  had  both  her  hands  in  his,  and  was 
looking  down  upon  her. 

"Dear  little  frightened  bird,"  he  murmured,  "to- 
morrow at  this  time  she'll  be  quite  tame." 

"Don't  dare  to  say  such  things  to  me  !  Don't  hint 
at  such  hideous  impossibilities  !" 

"Impossibilities?"  Again  the  arched  eyebrows. 
"My  child,  I  speak  of  certainties." 


204  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"You  know  the  life  I've  lived  —  the  sort  of  girl  I  am," 
said  Ariadne,  speaking  now  very  quickly.  "No  one 
could  think  it  a  happy  life,  but  no  evil  has  come  into  it, 
except  that  which  must  always  be  near  you." 

"I  wouldn't  say  things  like  that,  Ariadne." 

"The  courtships  and  happy  love  affairs  of  other  girls 
could  not  come  to  me.  I  realized  it  and  tried  not  to  wish 
for  happiness.  I  knew  I  was  bound  to  my  stepmother. 
No  self-respecting  man  —  no  man  that  I  would  care  to 
marry  —  would  be  willing  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  mine 
—  to  follow  where  you  chose  to  lead  —  to  sit  by  quietly 
and  listen  to  you  while  you  sneer  at  and  ridicule  the 
woman  who  clothes  and  feeds  you." 

"Take  care  !"  he  said  hi  a  lower  voice. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  saying  all  this  to  sting  you,  Mr.  Martel ! 
I  have  no  wish  to  hurt  even  a  thing  like  you.  I  am  only 
speaking  to  you  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  of  my  own 
lot  —  my  own  hidden  sadnesses.  I  have  relinquished, 
for  your  sake  and  your  wife's,  all  that  goes  to  personal 
happiness,  and  because  I  have  had  to  keep  my  mind  from 
such  things,  I  am  perhaps  more  unworldly,  more  ignorant, 
than  many  who  are  younger  — " 

"Don't  you  suppose  I  know  that?"  he  put  in,  almost 
roughly  for  him. 

"But  some  facts  of  life  even  I  must  know,  and  one 
is — "  She  faltered,  and  the  strained  whiteness  of  her 
face  changed  to  a  flaming  scarlet  and  went  white  again. 

"Yes?" 

"That  —  that  —  it  is  in  a  man's  power  to  do  a  girl  so 
terrible  a  wrong  that  Death  would  be  a  sacred  gift  com- 
pared with  it  —  such  a  wrong  that  no  girl,  touched  by  it, 
could  go  on  living  for  an  hour." 

"I  am  surprised  !"  Martel  murmured. 

She  would  not  let  his  mockery  deter  her.     It  was  the 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  205 

girl's  soul  that  poured  from  her  parted  lips.  She  turned 
now,  looking  full  in  his  handsome,  evil  eyes.  The  touch 
of  artist  in  the  man  made  him  see  for  an  instant  the  face 
of  a  young  angel,  newly-stationed  at  the  gates  of  Paradise. 
He  had  been  reared  a  Catholic,  and  all  that  was  real  in 
him  cringed,  in  that  moment,  before  a  virgin's  shrine. 
Perhaps,  if  the  girl  had  not  been  so  beautiful  when 
pleading  — 

"I  do  not  think  you  capable  of  such  infamy,  Mr. 
Martel.  I  am,  through  chance,  under  your  protection. 
I  have  no  father  or  mother.  Don't  think  I  believe  for  a 
moment  such  a  thing  of  you.  Only  —  your  way  of 
speaking  —  the  hints  you  have  been  giving  —  it  is  only 
to  frighten  me,  I  know.  Just  tell  me  what  it  is  you  want, 
and  take  me  back.  Oh,  Mr.  Martel,  take  me  back  now 
—  now,  at  once,  to  the  wife  who  loves  us  both." 

The  man's  face  had  been  changing.  He  had  listened 
at  first  with  lowered  eyes,  but  now  the  mention  of  his 
wife's  name  seemed  to  madden  him. 

He  gave  an  exclamation  which  the  girl  had  never  heard 
before,  some  strange  foreign  oath,  and  laughed,  snapping 
his  fingers. 

"To  my  wife,  with  her  soothing  voice  and  multiple 
caresses.  'Connie'!"  How  exquisite  the  intonation. 
"Back  !  To  throw  you  in  the  arms  of  that  American ! 
It's  not  all  ice  and  snow  and  virginal  ignorance  !  I  had 
sworn  to  be  the  first  man  that  should  touch  you.  I  have 
been  famished  for  that  first  kiss  on  lips  so  long  withheld. 
He  cheated  me.  You  think  you  love  him.  Perhaps 
you've  not  admitted  it  to  your  chaste  thoughts,  but  in 
time  you  would  find  a  way  to  go  to  him.  But  my  chance 
is  here  now.  I  will  not  lose  it,  not  if  I  burn  in  Hell  flame 
after.  You  ask  what  I  intend.  Well,  you  shall  have  it. 
We'll  not  go  back  for  Donna ;  she  can  get  home.  We  will 


206  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

not  see  the  Hague  until  to-morrow.     What !  no  screams 

—  no  protestations  !    And  when  we  do  go  back"   —his 
voice  sank  lower,  excitement  vanished  from  his  face,  and 
Ms  lids  narrowed  as  each  word  sent  in  its  fang  —  "the 
last  face  you  will  wish  to  see  will  be  that  of  your  lover." 

Yes,  she  had  it  now,  and  no  cries  came.  A  blessed 
dullness  crept  across  her  mind,  a  mist  hiding  the  black- 
ness of  the  chasm.  She  lifted  her  hand  and  pushed  the 
heavy  hair  back  from  her  forehead.  How  sweet  the  air 
was  growing !  How  cool  and  beautiful  a  thought  was 
Death.  "He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters;  He 
restoreth  my  soul,"  a  voice  in  her  heart  was  saying. 
Yes,  the  young  mother  would  surely  come  in  such  an 
hour. 

The  blessed  mists  rose  higher.  They,  too,  were  cool. 
A  look  of  exaltation  shone  in  the  girl's  upturned  face. 
Martel  muttered  something  and  turned  away. 

And  then  there  was  Randy,  who  loved  her  and  whom 
she  had  once  so  dearly  loved.  "Randy,  my  dear,  my 
dearest !"  her  heart  whispered.  This  was  a  cry  of  life 

—  of  longing ;  no  need  for  young  love  now ;   and  under 
it  all  —  above  —  within  —  came  the  still,  spirit  voice  : 
"Yes,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death - 

The  car  sped  on;  just  here  there  were  ruts  and  the 
fret  of  stones.  Ariadne  was  oblivious  to  the  motion. 
She  no  longer  counted  the  minutes.  Soon  time  for  her 
would  be  at  an  end.  Let  the  dull  mists  creep  higher. 
The  blurring  of  all  senses  was  a  more  abiding  peace. 

The  dark  shape  beside  her  did  not  speak  again.  For 
the  moment  it,  too,  dissolved  into  oblivion.  The  some- 
thing that  was  herself,  that  essence,  that  intelligence, 
seemed  somewhere  far  away,  a  crystal,  still  unshattered, 
held  in  the  outstretched  hand  of  death. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  207 

The  car  once  more  slackened  its  speed.  The  shape 
near  her  stirred  and  said  "At  last ! "  A  few  dark  cottages 
appeared.  There  were  forms  outside  that  wore  strange 
faces,  or  were  they  masks  ?  Life  grinned  at  her  from  the 
hollow  sockets;  this  world  was  still  at  hand,  then,  or 
rather  this  grim  shard  of  a  world. 

The  motor  crept  on  slowly,  panting  and  whimpering 
like  an  exhausted  animal.  Several  of  the  human  figures 
outside  began  to  keep  slouching  pace  with  it.  The 
scrape  and  clatter  of  wooden  shoes  fell  into  rhythm  with 
the  shuddering  car.  From  the  sky  came  a  dull  volley 
of  thunder,  and  a  few  great  raindrops  slanted  across  the 
windows  of  the  limousine. 

The  last  house  of  the  small  fishing  hamlet  had  appar- 
ently been  passed,  but  the  shivering  car  continued  on. 
Then  just  beside  an  isolated  hut,  with  a  roof  so  broad 
and  low  that  the  corner  eaves  bent  down  to  peer  in  at  the 
stranger,  the  car  stopped.  The  wooden  shoes  stopped 
also  instantly.  The  small  house  faced  the  sea.  Ariadne, 
at  her  side  of  the  car,  could  have  reached  up  and  broken 
off  a  gingerbread  tile  as  did  the  children  to  the  witch's 
house.  Her  situation  was  as  fantastic,  as  unreal,  but 
here  was  underlying  tragedy  a  part  of  fundamental 
evil. 

Francois  was  beating  his  cramped  hands  together. 
He  might  have  been  at  the  Doelen  entrance.  In  the 
same  ordinary  manner  Martel,  looking  up  to  the  sky, 
answered : 

"Yes,  it  will  be  the  devil  of  a  downpour,  but  the  car 
will  have  to  take  it." 

Francois  came  closer  and  asked  something,  sending, 
as  he  did  so,  a  quick  look  toward  the  girl.  MartePs 
reply  was  not  lowered. 

"Of  course  you  must  sleep  in  it.     You  can  manage  for 


208  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

one  night.  I  wouldn't  trust  these  Dutch  pirates  with  it 
a  minute,  unless  you  kept  watch." 

The  fishermen  stood  about  now  in  a  silent  ring. 
Except  for  the  fact  of  being  there  at  all,  they  seemed  to 
feel  no  interest.  Their  faces  were  apathetic,  their  eyes 
dull.  A  few  women  joined  them ;  one  held  an  infant  in 
her  arms. 

Martel,  scowling,  said  to  Francois:  "Can't  we  send 
them  away?" 

"Better  not,  sir.  You  see  they  are  not  friendly.  We 
must  keep  to  the  line  you  said." 

"I  suppose  you're  right.  Then  go  ahead  and  open  the 
house." 

As  Francois  left,  his  master,  coming  to  the  left  side  of 
the  car,  held  out  his  hand. 

"Come,  Ariadne,  we  don't  go  farther  than  this." 

She  did  not  move. 

"You  might  as  well  come,  you  know." 

Still  she  sat,  her  hands  clutching  the  seat. 

"If  you  think  that  by  resisting  and  trying  to  make  a 
scene,  these  Dutch  fools  will  help  you,  I  assure  you  they 
won't.  They  think  we're  English,  and  they  hate  us." 

The  girl  turned  a  little,  sending  her  hunted  eyes  from 
one  face  to  another.  Martel  was  right.  The  one  legible 
expression  was  that  of  a  sullen  dislike.  There  was  an  old 
man  there  on  the  edge  with  thick,  gray  hair,  Dutch-cut 
under  a  green  cap.  His  face  suggested  a  touch  of  human 
kindness. 

All  this  time  she  had  not  moved  or  looked  at  Martel. 
He  stood  upright  now  and  said  rather  wearily  : 

"It  simply  means  that  Francois  and  I  will  have  to 
drag  you  out."  Turning  toward  the  house  he  called: 
"Francois  !" 

"Coming,  sir." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  209 

"I  will  get  out/'  said  the  girl. 

She  stood  now  in  the  muddy  street.  The  rain  fell 
steadily.  None  of  the  stolid  Dutch  seemed  aware  of  it. 

"This  way  to  the  house,  Ariadne,"  said  Martel. 
She  broke  away  from  him,  running  to  the  old  man  with 
gray  hair. 

"Oh,  help  me,  help  me  !"  she  said  to  him,  holding  her 
hands  in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  trying  to  throw  her 
agony  of  supplication  into  her  face  and  eyes.  The  old 
man  stepped  backward.  She  followed  him.  Surely  it 
was  a  gleam  of  human  pity  that  she  saw.  Francois 
said  a  few  words  in  clear  Dutch.  The  woman  carrying 
the  baby  edged  her  way  through  the  crowd.  Ariadne, 
with  a  cry,  would  have  gone  up  to  her,  but  a  young  fisher- 
man, thrusting  the  woman  back,  stood  before  her  in  an 
attitude  of  protection.  The  old  man  touched  his  fore- 
head, shook  his  head,  and  looked  around  at  his  com- 
panions. 

Ariadne  understood.  The  villagers  had  been  told  that 
she  was  insane,  possibly  dangerous,  and  had  been  brought 
here  to  save  her  from  a  common  madhouse. 

Martel,  who  had  stood  aside,  now  approached,  taking 
her  right  arm.  She  resisted  no  further.  Francois  came 
close  to  her  on  the  left,  and  the  three  moved  toward  the 
door  of  the  house. 

The  first  effect  was  of  a  forgotten  crypt  under  a  church. 
The  close,  damp  smell  was  that  of  stone.  Four  candles 
burned  on  a  ledge  opposite.  If  there  were  windows, 
they  had  been  closed  against  all  possibility  of  light  and 
air. 

"Not  very  suitable  for  a  lady's  boudoir,  I'll  admit," 
said  Martel.  "But  there  is  a  little  furniture,  when  your 
eyes  get  accustomed  to  the  darkness.  We're  to  have 
supper  in  another  room.  Have  this  chair,  won't  you?" 


210  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

He  reached  out  in  the  darkness  and  drew  one  up.  As 
Ariadne  took  it,  he  went  back  to  the  door  and  began  to 
fasten  it  with  bolts.  There  was  one  other  door.  This 
stood  in  the  center  of  the  long,  plain  wall  to  the  left  and 
led  into  the  room  where  Martel  said  they  were  to  have 
supper.  Francois  could  be  heard  moving  about  in  there. 

A  lash  of  rain  drove  against  the  tiled  roof,  and  thunder 
shook  the  earth  in  which  the  cottage  was  implanted 
rather  than  on  which  it  was  built,  for  the  floor  was  earth- 
hardened  and  beaten  down  by  generations  of  human 
service,  and  the  thick  walls  were  of  cement.  Gradually, 
hi  the  yellow  candlelight,  Ariadne  could  make  out  the 
setting  of  her  prison  chamber,  not  that  she  looked  con- 
sciously or  realized  that  this  could  form  part  of  memory. 

She  was  more  alive  than  she  had  been  since  Martel 
disclosed  his  intention  in  the  limousine ;  those  other 
human  things  with  their  hostile  faces  had  shattered  her 
mists.  Always,  nowx  her  mind  moved,  writhing  and 
turning  under  its  blinding  net  of  fear,  trying  for  a 
weakened  strand  or  the  loose  end  of  a  possibility.  Per- 
haps even  in  this  rigid  cell  there  would  be  a  cranny  of 
escape.  The  sea  was  close.  She  might  manage  to  reach 
it  in  the  night.  At  least  there  might  be  something  here 
to  use  as  a  weapon. 

The  four  candles  were  set  in  their  own  grease  upon  a 
blunt  jut  of  cement  over  a  fireplace  long  unused.  The 
place  had  been  recently  cleaned,  and  the  old  bricks  of  the 
hearth  reddened.  No  fire-irons  had  been  left  —  not 
even  the  hook  from  which  a  kettle  once  swung.  Around 
two  sides  of  the  wall,  up  quite  close  to  the  cemented 
ceiling,  there  was  another  narrow  ledge  once  used  for 
plaques  and  jugs.  She  could  see  dimly  the  white  circles 
on  the  wall  against  which  the  plates  had  leaned. 

There  were  three  tiny  windows  with  no  glass,  only  the 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  211 

heavy,  single  shutters,  battened  tightly,  apparently  from 
without.  For  furniture  there  was  the  thick,  wooden 
chair  on  which  she  sat,  two  others  like  it,  a  small,  wooden 
table,  and  in  one  corner  a  large  bed,  or  rather  an  emor- 
mous  low  divan,  spread  smoothly  but  with  no  pillows. 
The  entrance  door  was  behind  her. 

Martel,  having  completed  the  fastenings,  came  slowly 
back,  sank  into  another  chair,  and  lighted  a  cigarette, 
His  face  had  grown  almost  somber.  In  the  silence, 
Ariadne  heard  some  one  fumbling  at  the  bolts  outside 
the  door.  For  an  instant  the  hope,  so  nearly  dead,  grew 
vivid. 

"It  is  only  Frangois,"  murmured  her  companion. 

He  had  lost,  it  would  seem,  his  late  desire  to  taunt 
and  mock  at  her.  Had  she  looked  at  him,  she  would 
have  seen  that  he  had  grown  pale,  and  that  his  eyes 
were  tired;  but  it  was  merely  the  languor  following 
the  achievement  of  a  preliminary  success.  He  was 
pleased  that  he  could  allow  himself  an  utter  relaxation. 
Things  were  going  exactly  as  he  wished  and,  besides, 
there  was  so  much  time.  At  last  he  stirred. 

"How  it  is  pouring!"  he  remarked  casually.  "All 
those  wooden  Dutchmen  are  safe  in  their  hovels  now, 
you  may  be  sure."  After  a  while  he  added,  glancing 
round  the  room :  "And  there  are  no  houses  that  can  be 
shut  quite  so  securely."  Even  in  this  there  was  no  sneer 
in  his  voice.  He  had  merely  made  a  statement. 

A  terrific  crash,  following  what  must  have  been  a  close 
lightning  stroke,  shook  the  earthen  floor  under  them. 
No  hint  of  the  glare  had  penetrated. 

"Beastly  stuffy  place  this,"  said  the  man.  "Frangois 
will  have  us  a  fire  in  the  next  room." 

"Mr.  Martel,"  the  girl  began,  "there  is  something 
else  I  want  to  say  to  you." 


212  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"lam  listening." 

"You  know,  of  course,  the  unusual  conditions  of  my 
father's  will?" 

"Only  what  I  have  been  told  by  his  widow." 

"In  order  to  make  it  certain  that  I  should  never  give 
up  Madonna,  it  was  arranged  that  she  would  be  left 
penniless  should  I  desert  her." 

"Oh,  yes,  that  part  of  it.  Doubtless  it  is  also  known 
to  your  friend  —  the  American." 

"Randolph?     Of  course;   he  drew  up  the  will." 

Martel  was  taken  aback.  Then  suddenly  he  gave  the 
laugh  that  the  girl  hated. 

"There  is  something  I  wish  to  suggest  —  a  compro- 
mise," she  went  on. 

"Kindly  look  at  me  sometimes  when  you  speak, 
Ariadne.  Ah  !  you  can't.  Is  it  hate  only  —  or  perhaps 
the  dawn  of  a  certain  tenderness?  Well,  never  mind, 
that  will  come.  A  compromise,  you  say?  My  dear 
girl,  I  will  listen.  It  is  very  pleasant  to  hear  your 
Southern  voice ;  but  really,  if  I  may  say  it,  I  do  not  think 
you  have  the  material  for  a  compromise." 

"Take  me  back  to  the  Hague  now,"  she  went  on,  as 
if  he  had  not  spoken. 

"Trust  you  in  such  a  storm  as  this  —  when,  too,  you 
are  so  horribly  afraid  of  lightning?" 

"You  know  well  how  gladly  I  would  walk  the  distance, 
Mr.  Martel.  But  please  let  me  finish." 

"  Oh,  yes  —  terms  of  surrender ;   I  mean  —  pardon  — 
of  compromise." 

"When  I  get  to  the  Hague,  I  will  not  go  to  the  Doelen 
at  all,  but  to  another  hotel." 

He  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"  I  will  write  at  once  a  letter  to  Madonna,  stating  that 
I  have  left  her  —  that  I  deliberately  break  my  word  to 
my  father  — " 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  213 

"I  believe  I  begin  to  see.  You  are  more  resourceful 
than  I  thought!" 

"I  will  make  it  such  a  letter  that  even  Judge  Henry 
cannot  act  otherwise  than  carry  out  the  conditions 
which  such  a  step  will  demand.  The  money  will  come 
to  me,  and  I  pledge  myself  to  make  it  yours,  legally, 
at  once." 

The  man  said  nothing.  He  was  watching  her  with 
cool  amusement,  mingled  with  aesthetic  satisfaction. 
Now,  in  this  last  appeal,  she  was  pleading  with  her  deep 
eyes,  too. 

"It  is  a  great  deal  of  money,  Mr.  Martel.  Judge 
Henry  will  not  keep  a  penny  back.  It  is  growing  more 
every  minute.  Oh  !  let  me  do  this ;  let  this  satisfy  you." 

"So  you  think  that  money  is  everything  I  want?" 

"Not  money,  but  the  luxuries  —  the  way  of  life  it 
brings.  You'll  be  so  very,  very  rich.  Oh  !  say  you'll 
let  me  do  it." 

MartePs  lids  narrowed.  "I  believe  in  money.  You 
make  no  mistake  there.  I've  had  it  for  years,  and  in- 
tend always  to  have  it.  Perhaps,  a  little  later  on,  I 
will  let  you  carry  out  this  pretty  plan,  but,  my  Ariadne, 
there  are  other  things  I  want  as  well  as  money,  and  I 
intend  to  have  them,  too." 

She  sat  silent,  staring  into  the  empty  fireplace.  The 
man  wondered  at  her  composure.  Her  next  words  were 
those  of  her  inward  thoughts,  rather  than  a  direct  address 
to  him : 

"I  suppose  a  man  like  you  can  really  believe  a  girl 
would  consent  to  go  on  living."  She  threw  her  head 
back,  and  for  an  instant  put  one  hand  to  her  throat. 
He  thought  she  was  going  to  faint  and  half  rose  to  spring 
toward  her,  but  she  motioned  him  back. 

A  low  knocking  came  to  the  room  door  at  the  left. 


214  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

This  time  Ariadne  did  not  need  to  be  told  it  was  "only 
Francois. "  She  heard  him  say : 

"Supper  is  ready,  sir." 

Martel  rose  with  unusual  quickness.  "As  our  repast 
is  served,  you  might  as  well  come  in.  I  think  we  both 
need  it." 

She  looked  full  scorn  at  him  and  was  beginning :  "  And 
you  can  think—  "  when  suddenly  a  thought  came.  If 
there  is  food,  there  will  be  knives  and  forks,  breakable 
dishes,  glasses,  too,  for  the  inevitable  champagne. 

"Perhaps  I  had  better,"  she  murmured,  and  started 
with  him  toward  the  door. 

Martel's  dark  eyes  were  luminous  with  suppressed 
laughter.  "It's  a  very  primitive  little  feast  I  have  to 
offer  you,  my  dear ;  only  sandwiches  —  though  many 
varieties  of  them  —  some  Dutch  cheese  already  sliced, 
an  assortment  of  cakes  and  fruit  —  all  conveyed  hither 
in  pasteboard  boxes.  There  is  champagne,  of  course. 
This  compensates  for  other  crudities  though  even  the 
wine  may  have  a  queer  taste  from  pewter." 

She  stopped  short ;  he  had  even  planned  for  this  !  Not 
one  faggot  heaped  about  the  stake  had  been  overlooked. 

"I  will  not  come,"  she  said. 

"As  you  please,  ma  belle,  though  I  regret  it." 

He  opened  the  door,  showing  a  smaller  room,  bright 
and  cheerful  in  a  flicker  of  firelight,  with  many  candles 
set  about  and  burning.  The  repast  was  as  he  described, 
though  a  snowy  tablecloth  gave  a  somewhat  civilized 
air.  Francois  stood  beside  a  chair,  holding  a  champagne 
bottle. 

The  crude  door  of  wood  was  carefully  thrown  back 
against  the  inner  wall.  At  a  signal  from  Martel,  Fran- 
c.ois  changed  his  place  and  came  nearer  the  door.  Martel 
exactly  faced  it. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  215 

The  girl  went  first  to  the  main  entrance  door,  examin- 
ing the  bars.  There  were  two  of  these  —  square  beams 
let  down  into  rusty  supports.  Even  if  she  managed 
to  lift  them,  there  were  other  bolts  outside.  Those 
conspirators  in  the  next  room  could  leave  her  safely  here. 

She  heard  them  talking  together  not  as  master  and 
servant,  but  as  the  accomplices  they  were,  relishing  some 
recent  achievement. 

She  leaned  against  the  door,  pressing  one  cheek  to  it. 
Only  a  few  inches  of  wood  between  her  and  the  storm 
outside.  Once  free,  she  believed  she  might  succeed  in 
hiding.  If  she  were  only  able  to  reach  the  marshes,  she 
could  bury  herself  deep  among  the  muddy  stems,  and  in 
such  wind-swept  darkness  —  surely  by  this  time  night 
had  come  !  —  even  make  her  way  a  few  .miles  toward 
the  Hague.  After  all,  wood  was  not  an  indestructible 
material.  She  looked  around  quickly  toward  the  shelf 
where  the  four  candles  stood.  They  were  only  half 
burned  away. 

If  she  could  hide  one  under  her  coat  until  she  regained 
the  door,  and  then  leave  the  flame  against  a  panel, 
there  was  just  a  chance  of  its  igniting.  If  this  could  be 
accomplished,  she  would  go  into  the  next  room,  pretend- 
ing to  eat  and  drink  with  Martel  and  perhaps  keep  his 
attention  for  a  while.  She  was  turning  to  get  the 
candle  when  an  unusually  powerful  gust  of  wind  hurled, 
as  it  would  seem,  a  solid  sheet  of  water  against  the 
house.  A  slow  stream  stole  in  under  the  door,  writhing 
serpent-wise  across  the  earthen  floor.  What  chance 
would  a  candle-flame  hold  against  such  elemental  fury  ? 
There  was  no  use  trying;  not  one  possibility  was  left. 
Yet  something  must  be  thought  of.  Her  small  motor- 
bonnet  was  tied  under  the  chin  with  blue  ribbons.  She 
took  it  off,  tore  away  the  streamers  as  quietly  as  she 


216  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

could,  knotted  the  ends  of  them,  and  lying  down  against 
the  wall,  wrapped  them  round  her  throat,  pulling  the  two 
ends  fiercely.  Before  the  strangulation  disabled  her,  she 
had  succeeded  in  tying  the  ends  in  a  knot. 

Through  the  ensuing  agony  her  fast-ebbing  conscious- 
ness was  a  prayer:  "Oh,  Father  in  Heaven,  this  is  my 
only  chance.  Let  it  succeed  —  don't  let  them  hear  — 
keep  me  from  groans  —  physical  suffering,  that  means  so 
little  now  —  only  don't  let  me  fail." 

After  a  week  —  a  year  —  of  dumb  struggling  —  she 
felt  a  sudden  relaxing  of  the  iron  thing  that  bound  her 
throat.  She  was  lying  softly  —  was  it  her  own  little 
bed  at  the  Doelen  ?  An  arm  was  around  her,  and  some 
one  held  a  cup  to  her  lips,  whispering :  "Drink." 

She  drank  obediently.  There  was  a  strange  odor  in 
the  place.  Far  away,  as  at  the  end  of  a  long  passage, 
shone  four  great  stars.  The  dark  form  —  a  man  — 
moved  now  between  her  and  the  stars.  The  man  came 
nearer,  looking  past  her  to  the  some  one  who  had  made 
her  drink. 

"Is  she  coming  round  all  right,  sir?" 

Ariadne  dashed  down  the  pewter  mug  and  managed 
to  stand  up.  She  reeled,  and  Martel  sprang  toward  her, 
but  she  shrieked :  "No,  no  !"  and  staggered  to  the  wall, 
where  she  leaned  heavily. 

Martel  stood  still  and  looked  at  her ;  she  felt  the  malig- 
nant anger  of  his  eyes.  He  gathered  up  the  ribbon, 
twisted  it  into  a  ball,  and  threw  it  in  her  face. 

"Another  bottle,  Francois,"  he  said,  and  went  into 
the  next  room. 

There  had  not  been  from  the  first  a  possibility  of  his 
faltering;  but  Ariadne  knew  that  had  the  spark  of 
generosity  existed,  this  last  attempt  of  hers  would  have 
extinguished  it. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  217 

He  and  Francois  ceased  to  talk.  She  forced  herself 
to  look  at  him.  He  was  leaning  back  in  the  half-turned, 
languid  manner  he  affected.  His  face  was  dark  and 
brooding,  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  table.  He  lifted 
the  pewter,  draining  it,  and  held  it  out  toward  Francois 
to  be  refilled.  On  his  little  finger  the  ruby  that 
Madonna  had  given  him  —  the  ruby  bought  with 
her  father's  money  —  hung  like  a  drop  of  blood  partly 
congealed. 

A  sickening  tremor  took  possession  of  the  girl.  She 
could  not  stand,  but  in  sinking  she  kept  one  outstretched 
arm  against  the  wall  to  prevent  her  body  from  plunging 
forward.  She  reached  her  knees  and  remained  there, 
still  leaning  against  the  wall.  She  was  directly  in  line 
of  vision  for  Martel.  If  he  had  noticed  the  partial  col- 
lapse, he  gave  no  sign.  Somehow  she  no  longer  cared. 
The  fierce  reality  of  the  horror  which  she  faced  scorched 
into  nothingness  more  delicate  sensibilities.  She  began 
to  cry  softly,  rocking  herself  to  and  fro.  She  could  not 
have  thought  any  alleviation  possible  in  such  a  pass, 
but  the  tears  were  merciful.  Through  them  she  felt 
less  like  the  hunted  animal  at  bay.  She  was  a  girl  — • 
no  jungle  beast  —  a  girl,  friendless  but  for  one  lover 
who  could  not  save  her,  and  forsaken  by  the  God  to 
whom  she  had  prayed.  She  had  heard  of  people  who 
did  not  believe  in  God.  Perhaps  they,  too,  had  faced 
some  dreadful  tragedy  and  had  prayed  to  Him,  finding 
no  help. 

"Oh,  Randy!  my  lover!  my  dear,  dear  love!  If 
you  could  know,  if  you  could  hear  me  calling  you. 
I  know  you  could  save  me  yet.  Randolph !  It  is 
Ariadne  calling.  You  heard  me  once;  can't  you  hear 
me  now?  Oh,  Randy,  Randy!" 

The  sound  of  Martel's  chair  being  pushed  back  stung 


218  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

her  into  watchfulness  again.  He  had  finished  drinking. 
Francois  was  getting  ready  to  go. 

"Sure  you  have  enough  rugs  ?"  Martel  asked  him. 

"Plenty,  with  my  big  coat,  sir." 

"You  ought  to  have  something  to  throw  over  you  to 
keep  off  the  rain.  Here,  take  the  tablecloth,  it  will  be 
better  than  nothing.  Put  some  of  these  sandwiches  in 
your  pocket  for  the  early  morning.  And  remember, 
the  car  broke  down,  and  it  was  impossible  to  fix  it  without 
a  garage  in  such  a  storm.  We  were  forced  to  take 
shelter  in  this  cottage  for  the  night." 

"You  can  trust  me,  sir." 

Martel  went  to  the  door  with  him. 

"Be  sure  you  bolt  it  firmly  from  outside.  You  can 
unbolt  it  any  time  you  happen  to  get  up  to-morrow  — 
just  so  it  is  after  daybreak." 

Frangois  said  something  in  a  low  voice.  Martel 
laughed. 

Now  he  was  gathering  up  the  candles,  blowing  them 
out  and  placing  them  back  on  their  sides.  Two  of  the 
lighted  ones  he  held  above  his  head.  He  stood  in  the 
doorway  a  moment  with  them,  darkness  behind  him, 
and  the  yellow,  flickering  light  on  his  beautiful,  evil  face. 

Ariadne  gave  a  single  look  and  turned  to  the  wall, 
shivering.  Martel,  with  his  slow,  soft  e.tep,  carried  the 
two  candles  to  the  mantel,  adding  them  to  the  four  now 
very  nearly  burned  away.  When  they  were  arranged 
symmetrically,  he  carefully  took  off  a  drop  of  the  melted 
wax  that  had  fallen  on  the  back  of  his  lifted  hand,  wiped 
the  spot  with  his  scented  handkerchief,  and  then,  turning, 
looked  at  the  cowering  figure  for  a  long  moment.  Then 
he  moved  quickly.  At  her  side  he  paused  again. 

The  girl  fell  forward,  with  her  cheek  upon  the  earth. 
He  stooped  to  lift  her. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHEN  the  great  limousine  had  vanished  from  the  Tour- 
nooiveld,  passing  out  at  a  far  corner  through  a  street 
so  narrow  that  the  enormous  rubber  tires  seemed  to  have 
mounted,  as  a  track,  the  opposing  pavements,  the  little 
portier  relaxed,  at  last,  his  attitude  of  rigid  watchfulness. 

He  raised  two  pudgy  fingers  to  his  forehead,  moving 
them  crosswise  in  an  absent-minded  fashion.  His 
face  had  lost  its  excitement.  What  it  showed  now  was 
merely  troubled  thought,  impinging  on  a  sort  of  resigned 
hopelessness.  Old  Machem  was,  as  usual,  beside  him. 
He  had  stood  so  long  that  she  finally  stretched  herself 
full  length  on  the  sun-warmed  bricks  and  lay  with  eyes 
contentedly  closed. 

Now  her  head  lifted.  The  master  had  spoken,  but  it 
was  to  Peetje,  demanding  that  a  chair  be  brought. 
Into  this  the  old  man  lowered  himself  stiffly,  as  if,  all 
at  once,  he  had  become  infirm.  The  sun  slid  under  the 
accumulating  banks  of  clouds.  A  low  wind,  with  a  tang 
of  salt  and  penetrating  dampness,  stole  in  from  the  sea. 
Machem  shivered  and  made  a  concave  of  warmth  about 
her  master's  feet. 

He  did  not  notice  her.  His  elbows  rested  heavily  on 
the  wicker  arms  of  the  chair,  and  his  gray  locks  drooped 
forward  until  only  the  old  dog,  looking  upward,  could 
see  his  face.  "Had  the  young  monsieur  but  told  me 
where  he  was  to  go  ! "  the  portier  was  thinking.  To 
himself  he  had  become  a  species  of  droll  fairy-godfather 


220  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

to  the  vivid  and  lovable  young  Americans.  He  had  seen 
much,  this  gray  old  portier.  He  had  become,  uncon- 
sciously, a  keen  judge  of  character  and  of  human  condi- 
tions. Friends  he  had  in  all  parts  of  the  inhabited  world. 
But  never  before  had  he  known  a  stranger  who  so  en- 
chained his  interest  and  affection  as  had  "  Mees  Skeep- 
vitt." 

It  was  not  only  her  beauty  and  gentleness,  or  the  ease 
with  which  she  had  won  shy  little  Betje's  heart.  There 
was  an  intangible  something  about  her,  a  pathos,  a 
golden  aloofness,  as  it  were,  that  made  him  see  her 
through  Betje's  eyes  as  a  true  Fairy  Princess  —  held  by 
sinister  enchantment,  until  her  Fairy  Prince  should 
come. 

Only  three  days  ago  deliverance  and  happiness-ever- 
after  seemed  so  close  to  her  !  Surely  the  tall  American 
was  her  true  lover.  Her  happy  eyes  confessed  it.  The 
queer,  alien  godfather  had  even  borne  his  part  in  the 
awakening  of  love.  Then,  all  at  once,  the  prince  had 
gone,  and  evil  again  encompassed  her. 

If  only  there  were  something  to  be  done !  But, 
fairy  godfather  though  he  called  himself,  he  was  as 
impotent  and  perhaps  more  ignorant  than  the  white  dog 
at  his  feet. 

Under  the  stress  of  these  gloomy  cogitations  the 
portier,  breaking  a  self-established  rule  which  had  been 
maintained  for  more  years  than  Ariadne  had  been  on 
earth,  produced  and  lighted  an  afternoon  cigar.  His 
next,  the  third  and  last  for  that  day,  should  have  been 
just  before  bedtime. 

The  contraband  luxury  soothed  him.  The  very  fact 
of  his  delinquency  was  stimulating,  and  his  Dutch 
equanimity  increased  with  each  deep-drawn  puff. 
He  was  a  foolish  old  man,  perhaps,  to  have  such  fears 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  221 

for  Mees  Skipvitt.  After  all,  the  fat  stepmother  was 
in  the  car  !  And  why  should  not  the  husband,  Monsieur 
Martel,  have  seen  and  joined  his  ladies  midway  across 
the  Tournooiveld  ?  There  was  nothing  strange  or 
threatening  in  that.  Yet  —  what  of  the  slouching, 
masked  chauffeur,  recognized  as  Francois,  and  the  face 
of  Miss  Skeepvitt  pressed  in  white  terror  against  the 
closed  car-window.  Why  did  the  mask  reach  out  and 
lock  that  door  ? 

A  great  rumbling  of  heavy  wheels  and  the  thud  of 
horses'  hoofs  upon  the  brick  pavement  announced  the 
arrival  of  the  station  hotel  omnibus. 

The  old  man  looked  up  quickly,  half  hoping  that  a 
miracle  might  have  brought  the  Virginian  back.  The 
vehicle  was  empty  except  for  the  French  maid  of  a  lady 
who  was  to  follow  by  a  later  train. 

On  the  high  seat  beside  the  driver  was  perched  the 
station  porter  and  interpreter,  a  smiling  young  Swiss. 
The  words  "Vieux  Doelen  Hotel"  shone  in  gold  across 
his  dark  blue  cap.  This  he  had  lifted  to  the  portier, 
when  a  thought  made  the  old  man  give  him  an  imperious 
gesture  to  descend. 

The  interpreter  obeyed,  not  altogether  willingly,  for  the 
portier  had  a  sharp  tongue  for  reproof ;  also  a  keen  Dutch 
thrift  in  claiming  his  personal  share  of  fees.  For  this 
once  his  interrogations  flowed  into  a  very  different 
channel  and  were,  in  consequence,  answered  with  an 
equal  readiness.  "Oui,  oui,  ja,  —  Mynheer,"  he  assented 
in  a  cheerful  mixing  of  tongues.  "Well  I  remember  the 
tall  young  sir  of  the  brown  face  and  white  teeth.  He 
had  no  Dutch.  I  bought  for  him  his  railway  ticket." 

"Ja,  the  ticket.     But  what  ticket.     To  which  place." 

"Only  to  Rotterdam,  Mynheer." 

"  Good  !    Did  he  inquire  of  you  the  best  hotels  ?  " 


222  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"No,  Mynheer." 

The  portier's  face  fell.  "There  are  but  few  to  which 
Americans  go,"  the  old  man  murmured,  and  was  slightly 
comforted.  This  was  already  two  days  past,  however. 
The  average  tourist  does  not,  as  a  usual  thing,  remain 
long  in  the  big,  commercial  city.  His  hands  went  up 
among  the  thick  bristles  of  his  hair. 

"The  young  sir  did  not  appear  such  a  one  as  hastens 
off  without  paying  his  bills,"  ventured  the  Swiss  sympa- 
thetically. Thoughtfully  he  inserted  two  fingers  into 
the  breast  pocket  of  his  uniform  and  kept  them  there 
while,  his  head  a  little  to  one  side,  he  watched  the 
portier  shrewdly.  "Perhaps,  in  that  case-  '  he  had 
begun,  when  the  portier,  as  if  having  only  then  taken  in 
the  meaning  of  his  last  remark,  cried  angrily : 

"Run  off  with  unpaid  bills  !  Who  said  it?  He  is  a 
most  honorable  monsieur.  It  is  for  something  more 
important  than  bills  that  I  would  find  him." 

The  interpreter  looked  astonished  and  withdrew  his 
fingers.  "I  am  rejoiced  to  hear.  Yet,  had  he  rudely 
escaped,  I  should  feel  it  my  duty,  in  service  to  the  Doelen, 
to  yield  this  check-claim  for  the  trunk  he  left  down  at 
the  station." 

The  portier's  troubled  face  grew  bright.  "His  trunk  ! 
Then  he  is  to  return  to  us  !" 

"So  he  declared;  perhaps  to-morrow,  Monday." 

"Let  me  observe  his  ticket  for  myself,"  demanded  the 
portier  and  held  out  a  trembling  hand.  The  name  Carr 
was  written  plainly. 

"This  is  good  news,  my  lad.  Enter  the  hotel  and 
demand  coffee  in  my  name,  also  patisserie.  I  will 
now  telephone  to  Rotterdam." 

Trotting  into  his  tiny  den,  a  room  so  crowded  with  its 
great  desk,  iron  safe,  and  racks  of  pigeonholes  that  the 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  223 

portier  had  to  edge  his  way  in  between  them,  he  finally 
reached  the  telephone. 

Each  of  the  leading  Rotterdam  hotels  was  called  in  turn. 
No  such  American  had  been  registered.  He  thought 
next  of  the  business  firms  that  represent  interests  in 
foreign  countries,  but  again  met  with  disappointment. 
The  dauntless  questioner  had  begun  to  consider  the  feasi- 
bility of  getting  at  all  private  citizens  whose  names 
sounded  either  American  or  English  when  an  inspiration 
came.  He  rang  sharply.  "Long  distance  again.  Yes, 
the  wire  to  Rotterdam.  Get  me  the  cable  office." 

"Line  engaged  !" 

With  a  "tscht !"  of  annoyance  he  hung  the  receiver  on 
its  prongs. 

He  could  not  sit  still  long.  His  brain,  a  little  dulled 
by  routine,  was  stirred  into  unwonted  activity.  Sug- 
gestions, possibilities  crowded  into  it. 

Returning  to  the  telephone,  he  demanded  the  leading 
garage  of  the  Hague.  Connection  given,  he  poured  forth 
inquiries  at  such  a  speed  that  the  servant  who  had 
answered  fled  in  search  of  the  proprietor. 

"It  is  I,  Alex  Brann,  portier  at  the  Vieux  Doelen.  I 
inquire  concerning  a  car,  a  large  limousine,  hired  a  short 
while  ago  by  one  of  our  guests.  It  was  black,  with  a 
strange  number,  and  a  chauffeur  unknown  to  any." 

That  large  car?  Yes,  the  garage  had  seen  it.  Less 
than  an  hour  before  it  had  been  brought  for  a  new  fill 
of  petrol. 

Interrogation  and  reply  exploded  like  Dutch  fireworks 
along  the  quivering  wires. 

The  car  was  stained  with  mud.  Evidently  there  had 
been  hard  driving  along  remote  roads.  It  was  a  powerful 
engine,  but  not  of  the  Hague.  The  garage  knew  every 
car  of  that  city.  Most  likely  it  had  come  from  Rotter- 


224  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

dam.  Yes,  they  had  noted  the  strange  driver,  an  ill- 
mannered,  taciturn  knave,  who  could  speak  a  little  Dutch, 
but  badly  —  very  badly,  like  a  Frenchman.  He  had 
let  fall  a  single  fact,  that  he  had  just  come  from  the 
Black  Village.  He  had  seen  a  Dutch  girl  there — " 

"The  Black  Village  !"  stammered  the  portier,  turning 
cold.  "Why  should  he  go  to  that  remote  and  dreadful 
spot?" 

This  no  one  could  answer,  and  the  portier,  after 
quavering  his  thanks,  sank  down  into  the  one  chair. 

"The  Black  Village  !"  He  could  hear  nothing  else— 
could  not  lead  his  frightened  thoughts  beyond  that 
sinister  name.  It  was  a  small,  squat  group  of  dwellings 
on  the  edge  of  the  North  Sea,  noted  for  lawlessness  and 
shunned  by  all.  What  should  a  foreigner  do  there  ? 

He  gave  a  low  groan.  Machem,  outside  the  door, 
whined  piteously  in  answer,  but  he  did  not  even  hear. 
"Madame  is  with  her;  there  cannot  be  great  menace 
if  the  stepmother  is  near!"  his  half-numbed  brain 
assured  him.  The  little  den  seemed  closing.  He  must 
breathe  wider  air.  He  got,  almost  reeling,  from  the 
door,  and  went  to  the  hotel  entrance. 

A  taxicab  had  just  drawn  up.  The  driver,  a  man 
known  to  them  ah1,  said  something  to  the  servants 
that  made  two  of  them  spring  quickly  toward  the  closed 
door.  Madame,  the  stepmother  was  within,  alone, 
and  leaning  back  in  a  half-fainting  condition. 

Assistance  was  called,  and  the  lady,  hysterical  with 
pain  and  terror,  conveyed  to  her  chamber. 

The  portier's  eyes  were  now  alarmed  and  staring.  He 
flew  back  to  his  den  and  rang  for  the  Rotterdam  cable 
office  frantically. 

This  time  he  was  successful.  "Yes,  such  an  American 
had  been  much  in  the  office.  He  had  sent  cables,  many 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  225 

of  them,  and  answers  had  come.  The  last  was  at  eleven 
the  night  before.  No,  the  clerk  had  no  idea  where  he 
was  stopping.  It  was  useless,  in  so  large  a  city,  to 
attempt  a  search  for  him.  Of  course  were  it  a  village 
like  Den  Haag—  "  a  laugh  came,  at  which  the  portier, 
projecting  hideous  sounds,  stamped  on  the  floor  with 
fury. 

He  disdained  defense  of  the  Hague,  he  spluttered, 
oblivious  of  inconsistency,  but  just  let  him  meet  that 
rude  person  face  to  face  !  For  the  moment  he  had  some- 
thing else  to  think  of.  It  was  danger,  a  terrible  danger  ! 
Messengers  must  be  sent  at  once  to  all  houses  where 
Americans  or  English  were  to  be  found.  The  name  was 
Carr,  —  Monsieur  Carr,  —  yes,  Carr,  like  a  tram-car 
or  a  motor.  He  must  be  told  that  the  Doelen  portier 
desired  him  to  return  at  once, 

As  the  amazed  listener  appeared  to  hesitate,  the 
portier  screamed  at  him :  "Don't  stand  there  gaping  like 
an  empty  cheese.  This  is  a  most  frightful  matter. 
Money  will  be  paid  to  you  —  much  money  !  Go  now 
and  seek  this  Monsieur  Carr." 

"But,  Mynheer  Brann,"  expostulated  the  telephone. 
"How  can  it  be  ?  I  am  a  clerk  here,  a  young  and  recent 
clerk  left  for  the  first  time  in  full  charge  and  alone. 
My  superiors  are  all  away  from  town  on  a  half  holiday." 

"Being  in  charge  you  are  your  own  superior,  gosling  !" 
almost  wept  the  old  man.  "Stay  a  moment.  Is  it 
not  possible  that  in  the  office  Monsieur  Carr  has  left 
some  house  address?" 

This  the  gosling  could  not  say,  as  the  office  books  had 
been  locked  up. 

"Take,  then,  an  ax  and  break  the  locks.  Or,  if 
necessary,  discharge  dynamite.  I,  Alex  Brann,  will 
assume  all  consequences  !" 


226  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

He  sank  back  for  a  few  moments  of  respite.  After 
a  little  he  rose,  and  called  in  an  ordinary  voice  for  the 
Hague  garage. 

"Is  Big  Jan  Ryden  at  the  stand?" 

The  servant  did  not  know.     He  would  inquire. 

"Devils  that  eat  us !"  growled  the  portier.  "No  one 
knows  anything  on  this  day  !" 

The  long  pause  seemed  never  to  be  broken,  but  when 
finally  it  was,  Jan's  own  deep  bellow  answered  him. 

"Ah,  it  is  you,  Jan.  Get  the  best  car  you  can  procure. 
Is  there  one  of  six  cylinders?" 

Jan  regretted  that  a  four-cylinder  car  was  the  most 
powerful  car  that  could  be  procured  at  short  notice. 

"Select  the  best,  and  come  to  me  here  at/ once,  my 
son." 

Now  the  portier  took  time  to  wipe  his  brow.  Jan 
was  an  army  in  himself,  and  few  knew  the  surrounding 
country  so  well. 

The  portier  tapped  his  bell  and  ordered  the  answering 
Peetje  to  fetch  two  large  cups  of  coffee,  steaming  hot, 
also  sweet  biscuits  —  a  large  dish.  "When  the  chauffeur 
Jan  arrives,  conduct  him  to  me  here,"  the  old  man  added. 

Scarcely  were  the  steaming  cups  upon  the  desk  when 
Big  Jan  drove  up.  Peetje  ushered  him  den-wards, 
wondering  at  every  step  how  he  could  possibly  get  inside, 
for  Jan  was  a  giant  among  his  countrymen,  a  hillock  of 
a  man,  with  the  pink  cheeks  and  innocent  blue  eyes  of  a 
child. 

Somehow  he  managed  to  enter,  though  he  had  to  stoop 
for  it,  and,  greatly  to  Peetje's  chagrin,  could  even  close 
the  door. 

Within  there  was  indeed  considerable  difficulty  to 
find  a  place  for  him.  The  portier,  whose  resourcefulness 
to-day  appeared  illimitable,  contrived  a  seat  for  him 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  227 

out  of  an  inverted  "Schnapps"  box,  thrust  back  between 
the  desk  and  a  corner  of  the  room.  Into  this  nook 
Jan  squeezed  himself  by  apprehensive  inches,  and  when 
the  box  checked  him,  sat  with  knees  high  in  air  and  very 
close  together  like  some  overgrown  Peruvian  mummy 
suddenly  revivified,  who  finds  his  sarcophagus  too  small. 
The  refreshment,  pushed  comfortably  near,  quickly 
restored  his  cramped  amiability.  As  the  portier  began 
to  talk,  he  listened  with  childish  interest,  sipping  the 
fragrant  coffee,  and  devouring  "Bisquoit"  unceasingly. 
For  a  time  there  was  little  for  him  to  say  besides  "Ja,jar 
mynheer.  Ik  versta,  mynheer."  (I  understand,  sir.) 

This  kindly  old  man  had  always  been  his  friend,  and 
Jan  was  very  glad  to  serve  him,  but  to  the  slow, 
peasant  mind,  this  excitement  about  an  American  girl 
was  droll. 

"She  is  not  English,  Jan.  Remember  that,  my  son. 
Not  of  the  English  who  fought  so  unjustly  in  South 
Africa  and  took  away  our  possessions.  The  Americans 
are  greatly  different.  They  live  on  the  far  side  of  the 
earth  from  England.  They  are  our  friends  —  yes. 
And  they  give  money  freely." 

Jan's  eyes  brightened,  at  which  the  wily  portier, 
lifting  both  hands  palm  down  with  the  fingers  closed, 
suddenly  opened  them  to  release  an  imaginary  shower 
of  gulden. 

Jan  gave  an  ecstatic  cry  of  comprehension.  Here  at 
last  was  a  motive  that  he  could  understand.  He  had 
begun  to  work  himself  upwards  when  the  telephone's 
sharp  ring,  a  reverberating  hailstorm  on  tin  roofs  in 
these  restricted  quarters,  sent  him  crashing  back.  The 
box  gave  way  with  a  single  detonation. 

Ignoring  his  guest's  predicament,  the  portier,  with  the 
receiver  at  his  ear,  again  bombarded  Rotterdam. 


228  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

" Speak  louder!"  he  commanded.  "You  do  but 
jabber.  Not  so  fast !  No  word  have  I  understood  as 
yet.  Ah,  Monsieur  Can! "  This  with  a  gasp  of  as- 
tonishment and  joy.  "Pardon,  my  ear  was  not  bent 
for  the  English,  though  I  might  have  known.  Yes, 
Monsieur,  you  are  needed.  Come  at  once  by  the  main 
road.  I  will  meet—  He  heard  the  distant  receiver 
fall.  The  American  had  already  started. 

The  portier  chuckled.  "It  is  he.  It  is  monsieur  in 
person,"  he  announced  in  rapture.  As  there  was  no 
reply  from  Jan  except  a  series  of  puffs  and  stertorian 
breathing  such  as  might  issue  from  an  entrapped  walrus, 
the  little  man  turned.  Two  large,  reproachful,  blue  eyes 
were  fixed  on  him  from  just  beneath  the  desk-top. 

"Ach,  my  poor  lad.  My  poor,  good  Jan,"  he  de- 
plored, now  all  contrition.  "I  did  not  hear  you  fall. 
You  are  not  hurt?"  he  inquired  anxiously.  "You  will 
be  able  to  drive  the  car?" 

The  prostrate  giant,  finally  extricated,  felt  his  huge 
body  all  over  before  he  assured  the  portier  that  he  had 
incurred  no  permanent  injury. 

It  was  at  least  twenty  minutes  before  Randolph, 
however  swift  his  car,  could  possibly  reach  the  end 
of  the  main  bridge  leading  from  Rotterdam  into  the 
Hague,  but  the  portier  could  not  restrain  his  impatience. 

It  was  as  well  to  be  early,  he  explained  to  his  com- 
panion. Americans  did  most  unexpected  things.  Mon- 
sieur was  as  apt  as  not  to  come  flying  toward  them  in  an 
aeroplane. 

Once  stationed  at  the  bridge,  side  by  side  at  the  front 
of  Jan's  motor,  not  even  the  humblest  of  taxicabs  got 
past  them.  The  old  man,  callous  to  the  torrent  of  in- 
dignation that  each  new  outrage  brought,  shrugged  as 
the  drivers  cursed  him  and  the  passengers  frowned,  and 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  229 

murmured  to  Big  Jan:  "Of  a  certainty  it  was  not 
monsieur,  but  I  shall  take  no  chances." 

At  last  a  long,  low  racer  came  toward  them,  blurring 
the  distant  road.  "Gott,  that  is  he!  That  is  the 
American  !"  cried  the  portier,  scrambling  in  his  excite- 
ment to  Jan's  very  lap.  "Ach,  how  to  stop  him  !  He 
will  leap  over  us  like  a  deer  !  Can  you  drive  a  car  like 
that,  Jan?" 

"It  is  a  madman  driving,"  muttered  the  chauffeur. 

"True,  for  it  is  the  American.  There  is  but  one 
figure  in  the  car." 

Breaking  away  from  Jan  and  running  into  the  very 
center  of  the  road,  the  portier  danced  back  and  forth, 
his  short  arms  waving,  the  steel  of  his  gray  hair  threaten- 
ing to  snap  out  sparks. 

Big  Jan,  following  hastily,  lifted  the  little  man  in  his 
arms.  Although  the  kindly  behemoth  had  thought 
only  of  rescuing  his  patron,  his  bulk  and  deliberate 
motions  did  what  the  portieres  frantic  gestures  might 
never  have  accomplished.  Randolph,  swearing  audibly, 
was  compelled  to  slacken  speed.  The  sound  of  his  own 
name,  called  out  in  an  agony  of  vehemence,  brought 
him  to  a  quivering  standstill. 

"Here  —  here  —  is  de  Beeg  Jan!"  chattered  the 
portier,  as  he  dragged  Jan  to  the  front  seat.  "Take  him 
beside  you.  He  is  to  be  relied  on.  He  knows  de 
way.  Stop!"  his  voice  rose  to  shriller  command,  for 
the  American,  scarcely  waiting  until  Jan  had  placed 
his  enormous  foot  upon  the  mud-guard,  was  about  to 
speed  forward. 

"Beeg  Jan  hass  no  Engleesh.  I  mus'  explain,  Mon- 
sieur. Miss  Skeepwitt  is  not  dere,  at  the  Doelen. 
Dey  took  her  away  in  a  large  car ;  dey  play  de  treek  on 
her!" 


230  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

It  was  hard  to  say  which  trembled  the  more  violently, 
young  Carr,  or  the  suddenly  arrested  engine. 

"At  first  Madame  went,  but  soon  she  return  alone, 
vid  injury.  Dey  is  going  to  de  Black  Village,  de  valet 
Francois  driving." 

"You  are  sure  he  knows  the  way,"  asked  Carr,  speak- 
ing for  the  first  time,  with  a  little  nod  toward  Jan. 

"Yes,  —  yes  —  it  is  for  dat  I  employed  him  —  dat 
and  his  great  arms." 

"I  understand.  Is  there  anything  else  I  should  be 
told?" 

"I  t'ink  not,  Monsieur.  Only  —  may  God  be  vid  you 
—  and  vid  dat  lovely  one."  He  stepped  aside. 

Randolph  did  not  even  thank  him  except  by  one  deep 
look.  This  the  small  portier  was  never  to  forget. 

As  the  gray,  crouching  car  skimmed  past,  the  little 
portier,  watching  for  a  moment,  tottered  to  Jan's  empty 
taxicab.  Leaning  his  head  against  the  seat  still  warm 
from  the  man's  big  body,  he  whispered:  "Gott,  let 
dem  be  in  time.  Let  dem  save  her,  de  young  mademoi- 
selle who  is  so  kind  to  all." 

In  silence,  with  signs  from  Jan,  the  racer  continued  her 
way  in  the  direction  of  the  North  Sea,  devouring  the 
road.  About  midway  of  the  distance  Jan  made  a  gut- 
tural sound  and  pointed  to  the  left.  As  Randolph 
swerved  into  the  turning  he  nodded  his  blond  head 
and  gave  a  satisfied  "Ja."  Soon  they  reached  a  little 
forest.  The  gloom  of  the  late  afternoon  was  redupli- 
cated, but  in  a  few  moments  they  were  again  on  an 
open  highway.  Partially  submerged  fields  lay  at 
either  side.  Few  windmills  showed  and  fewer  cottages. 
But  the  road  was  still  well  kept  and  evidently  in  constant 
use.  Children  gathered  buttercups  beside  it,  and  in 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  231 

the  distance  the  spire  of  a  village  church  rose  above 
clustering  trees. 

"Faster  —  I  must  go  faster  !"  said  Randolph  to  him- 
self and  touched  a  lever.  Jan  put  out  a  hand  to  stop 
him,  just  too  late.  The  round,  Dutch  face  grew  troubled. 
He  said  something  in  the  dialect  and  made  a  backward 
motion  with  his  head.  Carr  looked  around  quickly. 
A  policeman,  mounted  on  a  special  make  of  motor- 
cycle, came  like  an  arrow  after.  Already,  as  the  Ameri- 
can knew,  they  were  far  beyond  any  speed-limit. 

He  stood  up  now,  and  placing  Jan's  hand  on  the 
wheel,  drew  out  his  pistol  and  deliberately  leveled  it  at 
the  approaching  officer.  The  man  appeared  to  hesitate, 
but  Dutch  obstinacy,  if  not  valor,  prevailed.  He  gave 
a  vicious  spurt,  Carr  watching  him  steadily.  When 
the  pursuer  was  close  enough  to  see  the  other's  face, 
he  suddenly  gave  up.  A  mad  Englishman !  "All 
are  more  or  less  mad,"  he  reflected,  "but  this  one  appears 
to  be  a  demon  !  With  that  set  face  and  eyes  of  fire, 
he  could  easily  murder  an  entire  village  !" 

After  writing  down  the  number  of  the  car,  the  officer 
turned.  What  a  story  this  would  make  at  head- 
quarters ! 

Randolph  drove  less  recklessly.  One  fright  of  this 
sort  had  been  enough.  Beyond  the  last  little  town  the 
ends  of  the  earth  began.  Windmills  disappeared  en- 
tirely ;  even  the  ubiquitous  cow  no  longer  grazed.  Only 
there  were  the  long  reeds  bending  all  one  way,  and  at 
times  a  space  of  dull  gray  bog  that  might  well  be  quick- 
sands, and  over  them  white  water-birds  that  wheeled 
in  raucous  flight. 

The  flat  horizon  seemed  a  gray  canal  on  which  heavily 
laden  black  barges  moved  slowly.  Above,  the  center 
of  the  grayness  sagged  —  an  old  tent  curved  with  rain  — 


232  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

and  should  the  seams  part,  the  whole  world  beneath 
might  well  be  swept  away. 

The  road  grew  steadily  worse.  The  track  of  previous 
wheels  among  the  ruts  and  loose  stones  was  plain.  Now 
all  ahead  of  them  became  soft  sand.  Capricious  sea 
winds  had  chosen  to  deposit  here  a  line  of  dunes,  which 
a  thrifty  government  had  planted  with  pines.  The 
groves  were  of  dark  bronze,  but  at  the  edge  great  tufts 
and  fountains  of  yellow  broom  gleamed  out  with  a  star- 
tling effect  of  forgotten  heaps  of  sunshine. 

If  only  the  car  could  move  on  faster !  Randolph 
gave  audible  thanks  to  his  Maker,  as  the  last  dune  was 
left  behind. 

"The  Black  Village?"  he  asked.  "Zwart—,"  for 
somehow  he  had  remembered  that  the  word  meant 
"black." 

"Ja!"  nodded  Jan  assuringly,  pointing  ahead  of 
them. 

Each  moment  the  sky  grew  blacker ;  sharp  elbows  of 
lightning  nudged  the  scowling  clouds.  Their  growls 
of  anger  dulled  the  vibrations  of  the  speeding  car. 
"Thank  heaven,"  said  Randolph  aloud,  "that  at  least 
the  road  is  better  here." 

Even  as  he  spoke  there  came  a  sound  more  terrible 
than  any  lightning  stroke,  —  the  sharp  thin  shriek 
and  explosion  of  a  punctured  tire.  They  came  to  a 
standstill.  For  a  moment  the  two  human  figures  sat 
motionless,  struck  to  stone. 

The  American  sprang  down  in  the  road,  Jan  following 
more  slowly.  The  latter,  keeping  his  eyes  averted  as 
if  in  personal  shame,  searched  for  and  opened  the  tool- 
kit. His  wide  face  puckered,  as  if  about  to  cry.  Ran- 
dolph, helpless  in  this  mechanical  crisis,  darted  about 
him  for  the  sheer  relief  of  motion. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  233 

Jan  went  about  his  task  with  the  slow  precision  of  a 
baby-elephant  performing  tricks.  One  might  as  well 
prod  a  sand-dune.  The  tortured  Virginian  hovered 
near,  stretching  out  now  and  then  a  hand  to  offer  un- 
needed  assistance.  The  rain  had  begun,  but  colder 
drops  broke  out  on  fhe  young  man's  forehead. 

Jan,  in  silence  and  without  haste,  jacked  up  the  car 
and  began  searching  for  the  puncture.  "  Neit  sahr 
batt!"  he  remarked,  lifting  a  smiling  countenance. 

"For  God's  sake  let  me  pump,  then  !"  cried  the  other, 
taking  the  implement  from  the  driver's  hands.  "I 
must  do  something  or  go  stark  mad ! " 

Jan  watched  anxiously.  At  the  proper  point  he  leaned 
down  to  interpose  a  restraining  hand,  for  it  seemed  as  if 
the  American  were  pumping  his  very  soul  into  the  swell- 
ing rim.  "Ach,  est  goed,"  he  growled  compassionately, 
and  took  the  pump  away  as  one  might  remove  a  penknife 
from  an  infant. 

"The  next  thing,"  remarked  Randolph  bitterly  as 
the  racer  swung  into  speed,  "is  probably  to  be  struck 
dead  by  this  lightning  !"  All  the  powers  of  evil  leagued 
with  Martel.  "Curses  on  his  black  soul!"  hissed 
through  his  set  teeth.  Thought  and  imagination  had 
been  long  held  at  bay,  but  now  a  tremor  of  physical 
rage  shook  him.  He  gripped  the  wheel  as  if  he  could 
crush  it  into  twisted  straw.  He  knew  what  a  fighting 
wild  beast  feels  when  the  hairs  stiffen  along  its  spine. 
"  God  !  let  me  reach  him  !  It  can't  be  far  off  now." 

Night  had  not  closed  in  entirely.  The  swollen,  blue- 
black  clouds  had  the  gleam  of  old  pewter,  and  the  hurled 
gray  javelins  of  rain  glinted  as  they  fell.  There  was  a 
slight  lull  in  the  wind.  Randolph  peered  forward  with 
a  gaze  of  such  desperate  desire  that  he  feared  lest  the 
simulacrum  of  a  village  might  materialize  from  the  tissue 


234  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

of  his  brain.  Was  it  a  vision,  a  mirage  of  hell  sent 
to  mock  him,  or  were  those,  indeed,  the  squat,  black 
roofs  of  houses,  still  far  off,  on  the  rim  of  an  endless  sea  ?  " 

Jan  turned  a  wet,  pink  face.  "Ja,  mynheer,  die  is  het 
Zwartdorp!"  he  beamed. 

"At  last  —  at  last !  "  Nothing  could  hold  them  from 
it  now.  Randolph  could  run  the  distance  hi  ten  minutes. 
The  gables  grew  sharp.  A  single  line  of  them  tilted 
downward  at  the  further  end. 

The  young  Dutchman,  catching  at  the  wheel,  made  a 
motion  to  slow  the  car.  The  other  answered  by  re- 
linquishing his  place  and  moving  into  that  vacated  by  his 
companion.  Jan  showed  by  nods  and  grunts  that  he 
approved.  Turning  slowly,  he  made  his  way  along  the 
rear  of  the  houses.  The  first  group  terminated  at  a 
bridge,  beyond  which  a  few  more  scattered  roofs  appeared. 
No  chink  of  light  shone  from  them.  All  were  sealed 
heavily  against  the  storm. 

Just  behind  one  of  the  larger  cottages  a  sort  of  shed 
could  be  seen.  Jan  paused  to  consider  this  and  waited 
until  several  lightning  flashes  had  convinced  him  of  its 
desirability.  Randolph  dug  his  finger-nails  into  the 
seat  with  impatience.  "Will  he  ever  drive  under  the 
thing  and  let  us  start  on  foot?"  he  groaned.  Each  of 
these  last  moments  of  waiting  was  a  red-hot  wire  thrust 
through  his  temples. 

Before  the  car  was  half  within,  Randolph  sprang  out, 
touched  Jan  on  the  arm,  and  set  off  at  a  run.  The 
Dutchman  thundered  after  him,  making  a  noise  like 
that  of  a  muffled  bull.  At  sight  of  a  limousine  drawn 
up  beside  the  farthest  hovel,  both  stopped.  Jan  caught 
the  American  by  the  shoulder,  and  put  his  other  hand 
up  to  his  lips.  They  moved  together  toward  the  stand- 
ing car. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  235 

Within,  a  match  was  struck.  Its  red  glare  disclosed 
the  face  of  the  unsuspecting  Francois.  Randolph 
drew  his  companion  a  few  steps  away,  pointing  first  at 
the  car,  lifted  his  hands  with  the  wrists  crossed,  and 
made  motions  of  struggle  against  an  imaginary  binding. 

Jan,  when  comprehension  had  finally  dawned  upon 
him,  gave  a  guttural  of  assent,  raised  his  eyebrows, 
and  looked  around  the  landscape  as  if  hoping  for  the 
miraculous  appearance  of  a  rope.  Randolph's  eager 
search  had  been  nearer  home.  Stripping  off  a  flexible 
leather  belt,  he  offered  it,  and  in  an  instant  more  supple- 
mented it  by  his  pocket-handkerchief.  Then,  leaning 
down,  he  deliberately  slit  the  two  rear  tires. 

At  the  sound  and  shock  of  the  dual  explosion,  the 
occupant  of  the  car  sprang  out. 

Jan  caught  him  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and  clapped 
the  huge  concave  of  his  other  hand  upon  the  valet's 
face,  which  it  covered  as  a  walnut  shell  its  kernel. 

The  trapped  creature  made  no  sound,  nor  did  he  offer 
the  faintest  opposition.  The  Dutch  chauffeur  went 
about  his  strange,  unfamiliar  task  with  the  same  pains- 
taking fidelity  he  might  have  used  in  painting  an  old 
taxicab.  Randolph,  zig-zagging  through  the  mud, 
uttered  violent  imprecations  against  the  delay. 

Seating  himself  upon  the  running-guard  of  the  limou- 
sine, which  for  a  wonder  did  not  give  way,  Jan  crossed 
the  valet's  hands  in  front,  the  Frenchman  watching 
him  the  while  with  a  faint,  cheerful  curiosity.  This, 
proving  for  some  unfathomable  reason  not  to  be  desired, 
Francois  was  unceremoniously  flung,  face  down,  across 
the  Herculean  knees,  in  the  manner  of  a  school-boy 
receiving  chastisement.  Slowly  the  bonds  were  tied, 
being  woven  in  and  out,  and  at  last  knotted  with  a 
thoroughness  derived  from  sea-going  ancestors,  at  which 


236  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

the  viking  rose,  and  holding  his  trussed  victim  out  at 
arm's  length,  deposited  him  tenderly  within  the  car. 

Randolph,  with  an  oath  of  thankfulness,  rushed 
toward  the  house.  Jan  caught  him  just  before  he 
touched  the  door.  "Nay,  nay,  mynheer,"  he  warned, 
and  seizing  the  young  man's  arm,  forced  him  back 
along  the  crouching  eaves. 

Francois  sat  perfectly  still.  He  had  never  spoken, 
and  continued  to  wear  a  half -pleased  smile.  He  was 
not  unconscious  of  relief  that  the  girl  he  had  helped 
to  betray  was,  after  all,  to  find  salvation.  He  had 
been  in  the  car  but  a  few  moments  when  the  brigands 
had  fallen  upon  him.  At  least,  he  was  not  sorry. 

As  the  other  two  made  their  way,  with  finger-tips 
trailing  along  a  wall  which  to  Randolph  appeared 
interminable,  his  agonized  ears  were  bent  to  catch  some 
sound  from  within.  The  place  might  have  been  a 
charnel-house.  There  was  no  light  anywhere.  Even 
the  lightning  had  ceased.  Jan  turned  a  corner  and 
pausing,  demanded  in  a  whisper:  " Lu-cee-fer." 

Randolph  got  out  his  matches.  Fortunately  they  were 
of  wax,  and  so  had  a  chance  against  the  wind.  He 
struck  one,  and  holding  it  in  the  curve  of  both  gloved 
hands,  saw  that  they  were  in  a  niche  made  by  a  small 
jutting  wing,  a  mere  closet,  which  had  a  low,  square 
door. 

The  chauffeur  gave  a  grunt  of  satisfaction  and  with 
slight  effort  broke  away  a  rusted  iron  hasp.  There  was 
another  fastening  inside.  A  second  match  was  lighted. 
The  door-sill  had  been  worn  away  to  a  curve,  leaving 
a  full  inch  of  space.  Into  it  Jan  inserted  his  great 
fingers,  palm  upward,  and  slowly,  irresistibly,  and  with 
little  noise,  drew  the  panel  outward. 

An  odor  of  fire  and  food  stole  toward  them.    Jan 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  237 

humped  his  great  shoulders  and  would  have  crawled 
forward,  but  it  was  now  the  American's  turn.  He 
pushed  the  other  backward  and  crept  in.  The  closet 
was  a  grave  of  blackness.  He  rose  to  full  height  and 
felt  until  he  had  reached  another  door.  This  had  no 
clasps.  Opening  it  stealthily,  he  found  himself  in  a 
room  dimly  lighted  by  the  coals  of  a  dying  fire.  Two 
empty  champagne  bottles,  a  pewter  mug  and  some 
sandwiches  were  on  the  table. 

A  door  in  the  center  of  the  wall,  opening  at  a  narrow 
crack,  showed  clearer  lighting.  Carr  ran  to  this,  pulled 
out  his  pistol  and  flung  the  panel  wide. 

Directly  across  the  room  Ariadne  was  lying  on  the 
floor,  her  face  in  her  arms,  and  stooping  over  her  was 
Martel. 

Hearing  a  sound,  he  looked  back  over  one  shoulder, 
thinking  that  Francois  had  returned.  He  jerked  him- 
self upright,  threw  both  hands  above  his  head,  and 
reeled  toward  the  corner  where  the  bed  stood. 

"  For  God's  sake  don't  shoot ! "  he  cried.  "  I  haven't 
harmed  her.  I  haven't  laid  a  finger  —  Ask  her  for 
yourself  ! " 

But  Ariadne  was  at  last  beyond  the  range  of  human 
torture  or  of  human  questioning. 

Randolph  did  not  move.  Before  his  blazing  eyes  the 
other  seemed  to  writhe  and  shrivel  like  a  fungus  thrown 
on  coals. 

"Don't  shoot,  don't  shoot,  I  tell  you!"  he  cried 
again,  his  voice  shrilling  to  a  scream.  "I  am  unarmed; 
you  cannot  fire  upon  an  unarmed  man  !" 

"Keep  those  hands  in  the  air,"  commanded  Carr. 

Big  Jan,  incredibly  huge,  loomed  in  the  open  door- 
way. 

"Ah,  you  are  prudent,"  Martel  began,  but  at  Carr's 


238  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

forward  movement  the  incipient  sneer  turned  to  cringing 
fear. 

"Search  him,  Jan,"  ordered  the  lawyer,  and  with  his 
left  hand  indicated  what  he  wished. 

Jan  went  to  the  task  with  accustomed  cheerfulness. 
At  one  sly,  downward  motion  of  Martel's  arm,  Carr 
cried,  in  a  sharper  tone  :  "Hands  up,  I  say  !" 

The  Dutchman,  unconscious  of  menace,  looked  into 
his  new  quarry's  distorted  features  with  deep  interest. 
He  had  never  seen  anything  quite  so  horrible,  even  at 
moving  picture  shows.  As  he  drew  forth  a  small  and 
exquisitely  mounted  revolver,  his  eyes  opened  wide 
like  a  child  who  has  found  an  unsuspected  treasure. 

"I  thought  so.  Keep  it,"  nodded  Randolph,  lowering 
his  own  weapon.  With  a  groan  of  relief,  Martel  let 
his  arms  fall  heavily  to  his  sides. 

Now  the  American  began  drawing  off  his  gloves. 
It  was  a  slow  process,  for  they  were  soaked  with  rain. 
He  still  kept  his  eyes  upon  Martel,  but  his  expression 
changed  slightly.  A  frown  came,  and  he  appeared  to 
be  deliberating. 

At  last  both  slender,  virile  hands  were  bare,  and  in 
the  right,  folded  together  lengthwise,  were  the  heavy 
driving  gloves.  He  moved  forward,  as  if  reluctantly. 
Martel,  flattened  against  the  wall,  watched  him  with  the 
glittering  eyes  of  a  cornered  rat. 

Within  a  few  feet  of  him  Randolph  halted  and  gave  a 
slow,  dragging  look  from  the  quaking  knees  upward. 
At  the  man's  eyes  his  own  shrank  as  if  in  nausea.  He 
stretched  out  his  clean,  bare  hands,  glancing  at  first  one 
and  then  the  other.  "God!"  he  broke  out  with  a 
great  shudder.  "I  cannot  do  it.  I  cannot  be  polluted 
by  the  touch  of  such  a  creature  ! " 

With  the  wet  gloves  he  gave  Martel  a  terrific  blow 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  239 

across  the  mouth,  and  then  flinging  them  toward  the 
creature  as  he  fell,  turned  and  went  over  to  Ariadne. 

"Come,  my  poor  darling.  Come,  my  little  bruised 
white  rose,"  he  whispered,  kneeling  down  beside  her 
and  trying  to  gather  her  up  into  his  arms.  She  sank 
from  him,  limp  and  inert  as  one  newly  dead. 

Big  Jan  stood  over  them  for  a  moment,  then  strode 
to  the  main  door,  took  down  the  bars,  and  without 
further  ceremony  burst  it  entirely  away.  He  came  back, 
touched  Randolph  on  the  shoulder,  and  held  out  arms 
like  oak-branches. 

The  Virginian  hesitated.  It  was  hard  to  relinquish 
so  precious  a  burden  even  for  a  moment,  but  the  road 
outside  was  dark  and  slippery  and  he  knew  that  the 
kindly  giant  would  have  a  surer  footing.  He  gave  her 
up  to  Jan,  first  replacing  the  blue  motor-bonnet  that 
now  had  no  long  strings,  and  the  three  passed  out 
together  without  a  backward  glance  toward  the  pros- 
trate body  of  Martel. 

Randolph  entered  the  car  first,  and  Jan  laid  the  girl 
in  his  arms,  remaining  beside  them  until  he  had  received 
the  signal  for  starting  back.  Ariadne's  unconsciousness 
persisted  for  so  long  a  time  that  the  young  man  became 
desperately  alarmed.  He  called  her  name  imploringly, 
chafing  and  slapping  her  wrists  as  he  had  seen  people  do 
upon  the  stage.  The  dark  bulk  of  Jan's  body  leaned 
nearer. 

"Water  —  Jan  —  water  !" 

"Ja  —  vater,"  echoed  the  large  one,  speeding  off  to 
fill  his  cap. 

The  still,  white  face  was  bathed  and  mopped  in  vain. 
"Good  God!"  sobbed  Randolph.  "Has  the  beast 
killed  her  with  sheer  fright !" 

Suddenly  Jan  had  an  inspiration.     He  tossed  up  the 


24o  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

flap  of  his  long  coat,  dug  down  in  his  great  Dutch  trousers 
almost,  it  would  seem,  to  his  boot-tops,  and  drew  forth 
a  flask  of  Holland  gin. 

"Splendid  —  splendid!"  cried  Randy,  as  his  trem- 
bling fingers  closed  about  it.  He  got  a  few  drops  between 
her  pale  lips.  She  moaned  and  choked  a  little,  and  her 
eyelids  flickered  once. 

"It  is  all  right,  Jan  —  all  right.  You've  saved 
her,"  breathed  the  American  ecstatically.  He  was 
having  hard  work  to  keep  back  tears  of  relief. 

"Ja,  is  goed!"  gulped  Jan,  and  before  climbing  up 
to  his  seat,  raised  the  restoring  flask  and  nearly  emptied 
it. 

By  this  the  rain  and  wind  were  spent.  Somewhere 
up  among  still  wildly  driven  clouds  a  moon  was  hiding. 
Her  light  came  fitfully,  a  lamp  behind  tossed,  gray 
curtains,  but  the  young  Dutchman  knew  his  road. 

Storm-driven  as  the  clouds  by  his  hours  of  agonized 
emotion,  Randolph  leaned  back  heavily,  knowing  that 
each  moment  of  the  rushing  air  was  deepening  Ariadne's 
consciousness.  What  would  she  think  in  finding  herself 
so  closely  in  his .  arms  ?  He  did  not  dare  to  speak. 
Life  and  warmth  came  to  her  slowly.  He,  too,  was 
spent  —  weakened  and  hurt  by  the  hideous  ordeal. 
He  almost  wished  that  she  could  lie  here  quietly  until  his 
dazed  mind  cleared,  until  he  could  think  out  what  next 
was  to  be  done.  Her  face,  with  its  closed  eyes,  shone 
in  the  semi-darkness  like  a  white  cyclamen  against  dark 
leaves. 

"Randy,"  the  voice  was  from  very  far  away. 

"Yes,  darling.     It  is  Randy." 

"You  —  you  heard  again.  You  came,"  she  whis- 
pered and  hid  her  eyes. 

"Yes,   dear,   I    came.       You   are    mine    now  —  my 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  241 

own  forever.  Nothing  in  heaven  or  hell  shall  take  you 
from  me  after  this,"  he  began  passionately,  and  then, 
because  he  was  a  true  lover,  added,  in  a  lowered  tone  of 
pleading :  "that  is,  if  you  can  care." 

"Care  for  you  —  care  !"  murmured  the  girl.  "Oh, 
Randy  ! "  He  felt  an  arm  steal  up  around  his  neck. 

"You  love  me ?  I  —  I  —  can't  believe  it.  It  is  too 
wonderful,"  he  stammered,  his  voice  breaking  on  a  note 
of  joy.  "Of  course  I  love  you;  I  have  adored  you 
from  the  moment  you  turned  your  eyes  toward  me 
there,  beside  the  Vyver." 

The  girl  lifted  her  head  with  a  sort  of  beautiful  pride. 
"And  I  have  loved  you  —  you  only  —  since  we  stood 
together  under  the  cherry-tree." 

He  caught  her  back  to  his  heart,  and  in  the  speeding 
darkness  their  lips  met  in  a  first  long  kiss. 

"And  you  are  willing  to  marry  me,  my  darling?" 

"Yes,  yes!" 

Again  more  kisses,  and  then  he  commanded  master- 
fully :  "It  must  be  soon  —  at  once  —  do  you  hear  me, 
Ariadne?" 

"Yes,  Randy,  it  shall  be,  if  I  can.  You  know  that 
I  wish  it." 

"There's  no  'if  to  be  considered.  You  are  not  to 
spend  another  night  under  the  roof  with  either  of  those 
vile  creatures." 

"Don't,  don't  recall  them,"  she  shivered.  "  I  cannot 
—  bear  —  it  —  Randy." 

The  sudden  drop  in  her  voice  and  the  heaviness  with 
which  again  she  hung  in  his  arms  should  have  warned 
him ;  but  the  lover,  himself  strung  to  the  breaking  point, 
thought  only  of  the  moment's  issue. 

"You  are  my  affianced  wife  now,  Ariadne,"  he  per- 
sisted, "and  as  such  I  shall  protect  you  even  against 


242  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

yourself.  You  shall  be  taken  to  a  different  hotel  — 
Ariadne,  Ariadne,  what  is  it  ?  Can't  you  speak,  darling  ? 
Can't  you  hear  me?" 

But  the  girl's  spirit,  caught  for  a  few  bright  moments 
in  the  lure  of  happiness,  had  again  taken  flight ;  and 
during  the  remainder  of  the  long  drive  the  man  sat  cold 
with  despair  clasping,  as  he  thought,  the  deserted  tem- 
ple of  a  love  that  his  own  impassioned  violence  had  slain. 


CHAPTER  VH 

NEXT  morning  all  the  Doelen  knew  that  the  fair 
American  girl  had  been  caught  out  in  the  terrific  thunder- 
storm of  the  night  before,  and  was  now  lying  ill  in  bed 
because  of  the  shock  of  it.  They  knew,  too,  that  the 
young  American  with  the  brown  eyes  and  the  lean  pleas- 
ant face  was  much  concerned.  Already  he  had  talked 
long  and  confidentially  with  the  portier.  He  had  sent 
a  note  to  the  invalid's  room  with  a  great  sheaf  of  white 
roses. 

Gossip  spreads  quickly  among  the  servants  of  a  hotel. 
It  was  the  young  American,  they  said,  who  had  found 
the  disabled  car  and  brought  Miss  Skipwith  home. 
Mr.  Martel  and  his  chauffeur  preferred  to  remain  with 
their  machine,  a  very  expensive,  hired  one,  until  they 
could  see  just  how  much  damage  had  been  done. 

"The  queerest  part  of  all,"  confided  one  small  "but- 
tons" to  another,  "is  that  Marie  Vart,  chambermaid 
on  the  second  floor,  says  that  Madame  Martel  came 
in  alone,  many  hours  earlier." 

"What  lies  are  those  I  hear?"  cried  the  little  portier, 
darting  upon  them.  His  mild  eyes  flashed,  his  gray 
hair  seemed  to  stand  up  in  bristles.  The  small  boys 
shrank  and  looked  about  for  hiding  places. 

"Tschth!  Such  foolish  chattering  in  a  respectable 
hotel !  Send  that  Marie  Vart  to  me  !" 

Ariadne  lay  white  and  silent  in  her  little  bed.  So 
she  had  lain  ever  since  her  frightened  stepmother,  assisted 
by  Cummins,  had  undressed  and  placed  her  there. 


244          ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

To  Mrs.  MartePs  torrent  of  questions  she  had  been  unable 
to  make  a  single  reply. 

"Better  let  'er  be,  Ma'am,"  advised  Cummins. 
*'The  poor  dear  'aven't  the  strength  to  talk.  I  never 
saw  a  chalkier.  You  go  to  bed,  Ma'am,  and  I'll  sit 
'ere  by  the  window  till  day  breaks  and  we  can  'ave  in  a 
doctor." 

"But  my  husband,  Cummins;  I  am  not  thinking 
only  of  her.  Mr.  Martel  hasn't  come  back  yet.  You 
know  for  yourself  how  easily  he  takes  cold,  how  delicate 
is  his  throat.  I  can't  sleep  a  minute  until  he  returns. 
It  does  seem  to  me  that  now  Ariadne  is  safe  in  her 
bed  with  no  bones  broken  she  might  rouse  herself  to  tell 
me  just  where  she  left  Connie,  and  how  his  poor  nerves 
stood  the  shock  of  the  storm."  The  anxious  wife 
gazed  plaintively  but  also  with  irritation  toward  the 
inert  figure  lying  so  still.  There  was  no  hint  of  motion. 
"And  that  rude  young  man,  Randolph  Carr,"  the 
speaker  went  on  fretfully.  "Of  course  it  was  Provi- 
dence that  he  happened  to  be  driving  along  the  same 
road,  and  I  am  grateful  to  him  for  bringing  Miss  Skip- 
with  back,  but  he  need  not  have  brushed  me  aside  when 
I  inquired  about  my  husband.  The  only  thing  he  would 
say  when  I  asked  so  often  was :  '  The  man  is  quite 
uninjured.'  He  didn't  even  have  the  manners  to  say 
Mr.  Martel." 

"'E  told  you  what  you  most  wanted  to  know,  Ma'am, 
didn't  'e,  then?"  observed  Cummins. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so.  But  I  wanted  to  hear  particulars. 
Connie  is  so  unused  to  anything  like  hardships.  And 
that  valet  of  his  can't  be  found  anywhere.  I  suppose 
he  has  gone  in  search  of  his  master.  I  never  could 
endure  Francois  myself.  But  I  must  say  he  is  devoted 
to  Mr.  Martel." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  245 

Finally  she  went  off  to  her  room.  Cummins  remained 
on  duty  till  a  bell-boy  summoned  her  to  her  mistress' 
bedchamber.  Mrs.  Martel's  prophecy  of  sleeplessness 
had  evidently  been  fulfilled.  The  maid  found  her 
sitting  in  a  chair,  with  her  head  thrown  back ;  she  was 
apparently  in  great  physical  pain. 

"Lor!  Ma'am,"  cried  the  maid  in  genuine  alarm. 
"You  are  as  white  as  Miss  Skip  with  now  —  all  but  the 
purple  spots.  'Ave  you  been  took  in  the  night  ?  " 

"It  is  nothing.  Only  I  am  worried  sick  about  Mr. 
Martel.  What  can  be  keeping  him  like  this?" 

"Sure  'e's  sleeping  away  hi  some  Dutch  'ole  till  the 
night  is  over,  Ma'am;  there's  nothing  to  worry  over 
in  it." 

"Hasn't  Ariadne  spoken  yet?  Hasn't  she  told  you 
any  more  particulars?" 

"She  'aven't  spoken  or  moved  the  night  through. 
You  ought  to  'ave  the  doctor  to  her." 

"Yes,  of  course.  Dress  me  as  fast  as  you  can,  Cum- 
mins, and  then  tell  the  porter  to  send  for  a  good  doctor 
—  one  who  can  speak  English." 

One  might  have  supposed  that  the  little  portier  kept 
physicians  up  his  sleeve,  so  quickly  did  this  one  appear. 
He  came  puffing  up  the  stairs  and  into  the  sick  room, 
a  small,  stout  person  —  so  solid,  so  round  and  so  un- 
mistakably Dutch  that  he  might  almost  have  been 
built  up  of  cheeses.  There  were  kindly  brown  eyes  in 
the  Kaase  which  served  him  for  a  head.  Mrs.  Martel 
opened  the  door  to  him.  She  held  out  her  hand.  As  he 
bowed  and  then  lifted  his  eyes  to  her  face,  he  said 
instantly : 

"Yes,  Madame  —  she  is  ill,  ja  ?" 

"No,  no,  it  is  my  daughter  —  my  stepdaughter  — 
there  on  the  bed." 


246  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Ah  —  the  young  miss —  she  is  ill,  ja?"  This 
good  doctor  evidently  preferred  to  treat  sickness  lightly. 

"Can  you  see  her  ?  Shall  I  raise  the  shade  a  little  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Martel,  moving  toward  the  window.  At 
his  nod  she  lifted  her  hand  to  the  cord.  At  that  same 
instant  the  sound  of  a  motor  coming  toward  the  hotel 
caused  her  to  look  out. 

"There  he  is  —  my  husband!"  she  screamed.  "I 
must  go  to  him." 

"But,  Madame,"  exclaimed  the  little  Dutchman, 
bewildered,  "the  young  miss  cannot  speak ;  I  must  have 
some  other  — 

"I  will  send  Cummins,  my  maid,"  cried  Mrs.  Martel, 
hurrying  past  him.  "I'll  come  back  myself  in  a  very 
little  while,  but  I  must  see  my  husband  first." 

The  doctor  stared  after  her  a  moment.  Then,  shak- 
ing his  head  at  the  queer  ways  of  these  Americans,  he 
turned  his  entire  attention  to  his  patient.  He  felt  her 
pulse,  listened  to  the  beating  of  her  heart  and  then  to 
her  breathing.  First  one  eyelid  was  lifted  and  then  the 
other.  The  girl  gave  no  recognition  of  his  presence. 

"Are  you  of  the  pain,  my  miss?"  he  asked.  No 
answer  came.  Again,  and  even  more  gently,  he  ques- 
tioned, and  after  a  pause  made  a  third  attempt.  Now 
the  girl  managed  to  whisper  "No." 

"Ach  —  dot  is  goot  —  goot,"  he  said  cheerily. 

Cummins  entered,  and  he  received  her  cordially. 
"Now,  coom,  tell  me  vat  you  know  is  make  her  like 
dis  —  all  —  all  dead  —  like  so."  He  lifted  his  arms 
and  let  them  fall  lifeless  at  his  sides. 

Cummins,  with  her  British  lack  of  volubility,  told 
him  the  main  facts.  Her  personal  conjectures  were 
withheld.  The  doctor  looked  more  puzzled  than  ever. 
He  turned  back  to  his  patient,  and  his  fat  fingers  were 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  247 

deep  in  her  hair.  He  was  feeling  carefully,  with  that 
wonderful  sense  of  touch  which  is  in  itself  a  sort  of  vision, 
for  an  undiscovered  fracture,  when  Mrs.  Martel  hurried 
into  the  room. 

Again  she  was  panting,  and  her  curious  greenish 
pallor,  dashed  with  spots  of  purple,  gave  her  the  look  of 
a  comic  mask  through  which  pale,  prominent  eyes  stared 
wildly. 

"My  husband  is  back  at  last,  Doctor.  Oh,  they  had 
a  terrible  time.  He  is  almost  as  unnerved  as  Ariadne 
here.  I've  been  begging  and  begging  him  to  see  you, 
Doctor.  He  ought  to  have  attention,  I  am  sure.  But 
he  simply  won't  hear  of  it.  You  know  how  men  are. 
But  his  eyes  look  awful  and  —  " 

"One  stop  —  please,  Madam,  I  mus'  request.  De 
young  miss  here.  She  already  my  patient  is.  Did 
your  hoosband  says  dat  she  - 

"It  was  the  merest  accident,  Doctor  —  and  then  the 
storm  coming  on  which  prevented  the  Dutch  chauffeur 
from  mending  the  machinery  or  whatever  it  was  that 
went  wrong.  Of  course  I  don't  know  anything  about 
that.  But  Mr.  Martel  would  not  have  had  it  happen 
for  worlds.  He  is  always  so  careful,  so  considerate." 

The  doctor  waved  his  fat  arms  in  the  air.  "Madame, 
I  must  request  to  know  —  did  the  young  miss  fall 
down  —  make  a  hurt  of  herself  —  strike  de  head  — 
so?"  He  butted  at  the  bed  for  illustration.  His 
listener  at  last  seemed  to  grasp  his  meaning. 

"No,  no,  indeed.  It  was  not  that  sort  of  an  acci- 
dent. She  is  only  sick  from  fright." 

"Haf  she  been  frightened  much  always  of  de  motor 
drive?" 

"Oh,  no.  She  is  accustomed  to  them.  She  likes 
driving.  It  was  breaking  down  in  that  lonely  road 


248  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

with  nothing  but  marshes  all  around.  That  must  have 
been  it.  Ariadne  has  always  been  terribly  afraid  of 
lightning.  Why  anything  might  have  happened  to 
them  out  there  —  robbers  or  bandits  —  She  chat- 
tered on,  the  doctor  allowing  the  fluttering  strands  of 
speech  to  blow  past  him.  She  had  given  at  least  one 
clew  —  the  lightning. 

Again  he  lifted  Ariadne's  eyelids  and  gazed  in  her  face 
with  deep  thought. 

"De  lightning.  Ja.  Perhaps  if  she  fear  much 
— "  He  turned  his  face  again  to  this  stepmother. 
*'  Did  de  lightning  dat  motor  struck  ?" 

*'I  don't  think  so.  No,  I  am  sure  it  didn't.  But 
some  of  the  bolts  came  very  close,  Mr.  Martel  says. 
Even  he  was  a  little  alarmed.  Oh,  Doctor,  I  do  wish 
he  would  let  you  see  him." 

The  doctor  rose  from  his  seat  by  the  bed  and  drew 
out  a  prescription  pad. 

"If  eet  is  but  de  nerve  crash  in  your  daughter,  I  will 
give  some  medicine  to  help  soon.  She  mus'  be  keep 
very  still.  No  great  talk  to  her,  please,  no  visitor  at 
all.  She  must  be  keep  still  and  no  noise,  not  even 
question ;  how  goes  now,  mein  kindt  ?  Do  painful  stop  ? 
Noting  —  not-ing  I  say  —  or  —  He  put  his  hand  to 
his  forehead  and  lowering  his  voice  to  a  dramatic 
whisper — "dis — de  head  inside  may  coom  very  badly." 

"I  shall  be  in  and  out  of  the  room,  Doctor,"  said 
Cummins  quietly. 

"  Ja  —  dat  is  a  goot  woman.  You  do  not  talk.  Let 
your  young  miss  sleep  and  be  still.  Do  not  touch  or 
speak  but  to  give  de  medicine  as  I  write." 

The  doctor  went  from  the  room  and  down  the  stairs 
with  surprising  swiftness.  Cummins  felt  that  he  had 
done  so  to  avoid  the  topic  of  Mr.  Martel. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  249 

Donna  went  over  to  the  bed,  looking  down  full  into 
the  girl's  face.  Cummins  whispered  a  caution  against 
speaking,  at  which  the  other  frowned  a  little  and  shook 
her  head,  as  if  to  say:  "Why  caution  me?  I  am  the 
last  person  to  need  it." 

Ariadne's  long  hair  had  not  been  braided.  It  flowed 
back  from  her  flower- white  face,  leaving  a  little  golden 
promontory  at  each  temple.  At  the  top  of  the  forehead 
it  grew  downward  in  a  thicker  point.  The  pure  modeling 
of  her  face  and  the  straight,  silken  line  of  the  eyebrows 
had  always  been  among  her  greatest  beauties.  Now, 
with  her  lids  close  shut  and  the  long,  dark  lashes  fring- 
ing them,  her  curved  lips  helpless  and  in  some  way 
strangely  pathetic  in  their  unconsciousness  of  scrutiny, 
she  seemed  even  to  Mrs.  Martel's  unclassical  and  un- 
imaginative mind  like  a  nymph  asleep  in  a  dusky  wood. 
Pursued  by  some  dark,  mythologic  shade,  she  had  at  last 
found  refuge,  and  had  here  fallen,  her  young  strength 
spent,  waiting  for  the  kindly  essences  of  earth  to  comfort 
and  revive  her. 

For  a  long  time  the  elder  woman  stood  there,  silently 
gazing,  then  without  a  word  to  Cummins,  left  the  room. 

When  Randolph's  sheaf  of  roses  came,  the  maid, 
with  more  delicacy  than  could  have  been  expected, 
placed  the  flowers  in  a  large  vase,  where  Ariadne,  stretch- 
ing out  a  hand  however  languid,  could  not  have  failed 
to  touch  them.  His  sealed  letter  she  placed  on  a  small 
table.  But  all  through  that  day  the  girl  lay  in  a  sort 
of  cool  stupor,  swallowing  at  intervals  with  great  diffi- 
culty the  liquid  that  Doctor  Bergen  had  prescribed. 

Her  stepmother  inquired  often  about  her,  but  did  not 
go  to  the  room  again  until  evening. 

Martel  was  in  a  mood  so  black  and  wordless,  so  im- 
patient of  questions  or  approach,  that  the  poor  soul 


250  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

could  do  little  but  crouch  in  her  own  chamber,  listening 
for  the  impatient  striding  up  and  down  next  door. 
Such  spells  of  restlessness  were  followed  by  intervals 
of  silence  even  more  dreadful  to  endure.  Neither  went 
down-stairs  to  luncheon,  but  the  meals  were  served  in 
their  separate  apartments. 

In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  the  wretched  wife, 
fearing  that  she  might  lose  control  of  her  nerves  unless 
she  could  see  and  speak  with  him,  knocked  timidly  on 
his  door.  No  answer  came.  She  knocked  again,  then 
tried  to  turn  the  knob.  The  door  was  fastened. 

"Connie  —  Connie,"  she  whispered.  No  answer. 
"Connie,"  she  called  aloud  for  the  first  time,  and  her 
voice  broke  in  a  little  shriek.  She  heard  him  crossing 
the  floor;  a  great  trembling  seized  her.  "Please  go 
away,  Donna,"  he  said,  not  unkindly. 

"I  must  see  you  for  one  moment,  dearest.  I  can't 
stand  this  any  longer.  I  am  suffering,  too.  Let  me  in 
just  a  minute." 

He  hesitated,  then  drew  back  the  bolt.  As  she 
entered,  his  back  was  already  turned  to  her,  and  he 
moved  toward  the  easy  chair  where  he  had  been 
sitting. 

The  intruder  told  herself  that  she  must  be  very  calm 
and  tactful  —  that  she  must  do  nothing  to  jar  nerves 
already  overstrung.  Perhaps  the  girl  up-stairs  would 
be  the  safest  topic. 

"I  only  wanted  to  tell  you,  dear,  that  Ariadne  is 
doing  quite  well." 

He  made  no  sound. 

"She  hasn't  spoken  yet ;  and  the  doctor  says  that  she 
must  be  kept  very  still.  It  was  the  lightning,  of  course, 
that  gave  her  this  dreadful  shock." 

Still  he  remained  motionless  and  did  not  speak.     She 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  251 

came  a  little  closer  and  said  even  more  timidly:  "And 
how  are  you  feeling  now,  dearest?" 

He  roused  himself  wearily.  "There  has  never  been 
anything  wrong  with  me.  I  told  you  so  before." 

"Now  you  simply  must  not  worry  any  more,  darling. 
Both  of  you  are  safe  and  sound.  I  don't  suppose  the 
accident  to  the  car  will  amount  to  much." 

"Not  much." 

"Then  why  not  try  to  forget  all  about  it.  Let  us 
take  a  little  walk  in  the  fresh  air,  or  a  drive.  Just  a 
short  drive.  We  needn't  go  the  same  road." 

A  sudden  twist  came  to  his  lips,  giving  them  the  black 
mockery  of  a  smile. 

"I  don't  feel  up  to  that,  Donna." 

"What  I've  never  been  able  to  understand,"  she  began 
in  her  more  usual  voice,  "is  how  that  young  man  ever 
happened  to  be  on  the  same  road,  and  in  a  storm,  too." 

Martel  clinched  a  hidden  hand.  The  purple  veins 
showed  in  his  forehead,  but  he  preserved  a  low,  even  tone 
as  he  answered :  "I  don't  want  to  discuss  it  further  for 
the  present." 

Mrs.  Martel,  still  on  her  feet,  sighed  and  gave  a  de- 
spairing gesture. 

"Then  you  want  to  stay  here  alone,  without  me, 
without  anybody - 

"Yes,  but  I  will  come  down  to  dinner  to-night  at 
eight." 

She  moved  heavily  toward  the  door.  The  dragging 
feeling  at  one  side  made  her  long  to  bend,  to  yield,  but 
she  drew  herself  up,  ignoring  the  pain,  and  tried  to  walk 
lightly  as  a  young  woman  walks.  She  might  have 
spared  herself,  for  her  husband's  brooding  eyes  were 
again  fixed  on  the  floor. 

It  was  some  compensation,  at  least,  that  he  would 


252  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

join  her  at  dinner.  She  took  great  pride  and  joy  in 
their  infrequent  tete-a-tetes  in  public.  That  evening 
her  toilet  was  made  with  extraordinary  attention  to  the 
details,  and  she  bade  Cummins  fetch  one  of  Ariadne's 
white  roses  for  her  hair.  She  was  in  the  dining-room  at 
eight.  A  few  moments  later  Mr.  Martel  entered,  as 
faultlessly  dressed  as  usual. 

She  smiled  a  welcome  and  congratulated  him  upon  his 
smart  appearance. 

"Now  all  you  need  to  make  you  simply  perfect," 
she  simpered,  "is  a  flower  in  your  buttonhole.  Here, 
take  this  white  rose."  She  reached  up  to  disengage  it 
.rom  her  hair,  but  he  checked  her  with  a  gesture.  "  Don't 
deprive  yourself.  It  looks  well  there." 

"Does  it?"  she  said  in  delight.  Even  so  faint  a 
hint  of  praise  made  heaven  for  the  instant.  "Some- 
how I  felt  that  I  needed  a  flower,  just  there  among  the 
puffs,  and  I  stole  one  of  Ariadne's." 

"Ariadne's!  Where  did  she-  "  he  began.  A  slow, 
deep  flush  mounted  along  his  neck  and  up  into  his 
face. 

Mrs.  Martel  bit  her  lip,  she  remembered  too  late. 
Excuses  would  only  make  her  error  worse.  She  began 
a  feverish  prattle  about  nothing.  Martel  recovered 
himself  and  at  intervals  gave  some  obvious  reply,  but 
he  ate  nothing,  only  drank  —  not  champagne  merely, 
but  brandy,  and  after  that  liqueurs. 

It  was  not  often  that  he  showed  the  influence  of  drink, 
but  to-night  his  face  slowly  grew  a  deep  crimson,  his 
eyes,  half-closed  under  swelling  lids,  gleamed  like  those 
of  a  caged  python,  and  Donna  was  thankful  when  at 
last  he  rose  and  said  he  was  going  at  once  to  his  room. 

Before  undressing,  Donna  made  one  more  laborious 
pilgrimage  to  Ariadne,  up-stairs. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  253 

"Go  get  your  dinner,  Cummins;  I  will  sit  here  in 
your  place.  How  does  Miss  Ariadne  seem?" 

"She  looks  a  good  bit  better  to  me,"  said  the  maid 
judicially.  There's  som'at  can  be  called  color  in  'er 
lips  now  —  but  not  much." 

"Has  she  been  talking  at  all?" 

"No  more  than  you  'ear  now,  Ma'am." 

"Didn't  the  doctor  come  again  about  four?" 

"For  a  moment,"  replied  the  servant.  "He  didn't 
change  nothing.  Her  pulse  was  a  little  better,  he  said." 

'/He's  coming  again  in  the  morning,  isn't  he?" 

"At  nine  o'clock,  'e  says."  At  the  doorway,  Cum- 
mins turned.  "I  'ope  you  won't  think  anything  if 
I  take  it  on  myself  to  say,  Ma'am,  that  you  ought  to 
let  the  doctor  look  you  over;  your  color  is  awful  bad." 

Donna  sat  on  alone.  For  months  past  she  had  tried 
to  gather  courage  to  see  a  doctor.  The  distortion  of 
her  figure  and  the  pain  were  both  on  the  increase.  As 
Ariadne  had  once  noted,  her  face  and  throat  and  arms 
were  becoming  meagre,  while  her  body  grew  heavier  and 
more  distended  every  day.  She  belonged  to  that  class 
of  women  whose  instinct  it  is  to  summon  specialists  for 
the  least  hint  of  illness  in  those  they  love,  but  who  obsti- 
nately refuse  the  same  offices  for  themselves.  But  Cum- 
mins was  right.  The  time  had  come  when  she  must 
have  an  expert  opinion  upon  her  case.  Perhaps  in  the 
morning,  if  Ariadne  were  much  better,  she  would  speak 
of  herself  to  the  funny,  little,  round  doctor. 

That  night  the  old  portier  sent  up  a  small  folding  cot 
for  Cummins.  It  was  so  arranged  that  the  maid  could 
see  the  face  of  the  sick  girl.  The  doctor  had  said  to 
let  his  patient  sleep  through  the  night  without  medicine. 
Cummins,  being  weary  from  the  previous  vigil,  fell 
almost  instantaneously  into  unconsciousness  and  did 


254  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

not  wake  until  some  time  after  the  twittering  of  sparrows 
announced  full  daylight. 

She  opened  her  eyes  quickly,  and  her  first  look  was  to- 
ward the  other  bed.  The  girl's  face  was  turned  sidewise 
on  the  pillow ;  one  hand  moved  among  the  roses.  Her 
eyes,  looking  immense  and  black  in  the  semi-darkness, 
were  opened  upon  the  flowers.  Her  lips,  where  the 
color  was  now  unmistakable,  smiled  at  them. 

Cummins  got  to  her  feet.  "There  now,  Miss  Ariadne, 
dearie.  You  do  be  like  yourself  again." 

"What  day  is  it,  Cummins?" 

"What  day?  Lor,  Miss,  it's  a  Monday,  I  believe. 
You  did  give  us  a  fright." 

"I'm  going  to  try  not  to  think  of  it,  Cummins.  I'm 
very  glad  I  wasn't  ill  more  than  a  day." 

"We  don't  know  about  that  yet,  Miss.  Wait  and  see 
what  the  doctor  says  about  it." 

"Why,  yes,  there  was  a  doctor,  wasn't  there?  I 
couldn't  be  quite  sure.  Everything  seemed  so  queer 
and  far  away." 

"'E's  to  come  at  nine  o'clock.  Bless  me,  it's  after 
seven  now.  I  must  go  down  and  see  to  Mrs.  Martel's 
tea." 

"Let  in  a  little  more  light,  Cummins.  I  want  to  see 
the  sparrows  and  the  trees." 

"I  don't  know  as  I  should,"  said  Cummins  doubt- 
fully ;  she  lifted  the  shade  by  inches,  and  at  every  jerk 
of  the  string  looked  around  to  see  the  effect  on  Ariadne. 
There  was  no  shrinking  in  the  girl's  clear  eyes. 

"Up  to  the  top,  please.     How  blue  the  sky  is." 

She  was  not  thinking  altogether  of  the  sky.  One 
hand  was  fingering  the  roses,  leaves  and  blossoms. 

"'Ere's  a  letter  come  for  you  yesterday,"  said  the 
maid,  handing  it  to  her. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  255 

"Oh  — oh  — for  me?" 

Cummins  hurried  out,  her  somewhat  stolid  British 
countenance  irradiating  satisfaction. 

Ariadne  did  not  open  her  letter  all  at  once.  The 
effort  of  the  outstretched  hand  and  the  little  flicker  of 
excitement  had  tired  her.  It  was  enough  just  to  hold 
the  precious  thing  on  her  breast :  to  lie  there,  knowing 
she  possessed  it :  to  be  still  and  safe  and  feeling  the 
faint  perfume  of  his  flowers  creeping  up  to  her.  Flight 
and  blackness  were  behind  her ;  she  need  not  think  of 
them  any  more.  This  was  her  dawn  and  this  her  first 
wakening  into  paradise.  The  blessed  moments  slipped 
away,  bearing  her  along,  and  she  was  conscious  of  a 
sweet  longing  to  float  in  this  tranquil  ether  for  many 
hours.  But  this,  of  course,  would  be  impossible. 

Cummins  would  be  back  soon  —  and  perhaps  Ma- 
donna. Then  the  little,  rotund,  half-remembered  doctor 
was  to  return ;  and  the  precious  letter  was  still  unread. 
She  opened  it  at  last.  "My  own  True-love."  She 
kissed  the  old-fashioned  words  and  loved  him  evermore 
for  writing  them : 

"  I  send  these  roses  to  one  purer  and  more  exquisite. 
But,  at  least,  you  speak  the  same  language,  and  they 
will  tell  you  all  the  things  I  long  to  say.     Send  me  a 
message  just  as  soon  as  you  can  see  me. 
"  Until  death,  and  after, 

"Your 

"  RANDOLPH." 

It  was  not  a  long  letter,  but  what  more  was  there  to 
say  ?  She  rested  her  cheek  upon  it,  dreaming :  then 
again  took  it  out  and  read.  Why  should  anything  else 
in  the  world  matter,  now  that  she  had  won  such  a 
love? 


256  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Feet  were  heard  on  the  outer  stair.  She  hastily  put 
away  the  precious  page. 

Cummins  entered,  smiling,  with  a  second  note  and 
another  armful  of  roses.  These  also  appeared  at  first 
glance  to  be  white,  but  as  the  girl  bent  her  face  to  them 
she  saw  that  in  the  center  of  each  a  faint  blush  clung. 
How  well  indeed  could  roses  speak  for  him  !  The  first 
for  tenderness  —  now  these  with  dawn  in  their  hearts. 
"To-morrow,"  she  whispered,  and  grew  pinker  than 
the  deepest  center,  "to-morrow  they  will  be  all  the 
color  of  a  new  day  !" 

She  had  not  opened  her  second  letter  when  Doctor 
Bergen  entered.  His  rosy  face,  subdued  to  profes- 
sional concern,  quickly  broadened  at  the  sight  of 
her. 

"Ach.  Goot  —  goot!"  he  exclaimed,  rubbing  his 
hands  together  and  nodding  at  Cummins.  He  took 
up  the  girl's  pulse,  nearly  overturning  the  flowers  in  so 
doing.  As  she  reached  out  the  other  hand  to  steady 
them,  a  flood  of  color  swept  into  her  face. 

"It  is  goot!"  he  repeated  with  more  emphasis,  his 
small  brown  eyes  twinkling. 

"It  was  but  the  nerves  of  the  miss  —  the  medicine 
bottle  —  chut !  You  throw  him  out  -  -  so.  She  mus' 
rest  a  day  —  just  to-day  perhaps  —  and  she  must  eat. 
Ja,  much,  much  eat.  Shocolatl;,  mellek,  bisquoit  — 
and  much  eiren  —  what  you  say  —  Ja  !  Egg  —  the 
product  of  hen." 

Ariadne  was  laughing  by  this  time. 

"  Ja,  you  laugh.     It  is  goot,  too." 

"Shall  she  have  a  bit  o'  broth,  sir  ?" 

"Brodt?  Ja,  ja,  soup  —  much  soup  —  an  later  if 
she  wish,  some  fowl." 

"  Can  I  get  out  of  bed,  Doctor  ?  " 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  257 

At  that  he  became  thoughtful.  The  broad  oval  of 
his  face  returned  to  its  original  circle. 

"Not  too  fast  for  dat  —  my  young  lady.  By  noon 
time  you  can  put  on  de  cloak  and  sit  near  your  leetle 
window  there.  To-morrow  you  will  be  —  ach  —  so 
strong  again.  Den  you  go  out  to  little  walk  —  by  the 
Vyver." 

"Yes,  I -will  go  to  the  Vyver,"  she  repeated,  flushing 
once  more. 

"An'  now  you  will  throw  out  the  old  doctor,  ja?" 
He  beamed  again,  spreading  his  fat  hands  in  a  humorous 
gesture. 

"There  is  one  thing  more  I  want  to  ask  you,  please  — 
Doctor." 

"Ja,  my  little  miss." 

"Cummins,  go  down  now  and  see  if  Mrs.  Martel 
can  see  him  at  once."  When  the  maid  had  left  the 
room,  she  said  to  the  doctor  earnestly:  "I  am  very 
much  worried  about  my  stepmother,  Doctor." 

"Ja?"  he  said,  but  his  tone  was  no  longer  jovial. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  he  avoided  meeting  her  eyes. 

"Yesterday  she  came  up  here  and  was  in  such  pain 
that  she  promised  Cummins  she  would  ask  you  to  visit 
her.  We  are  both  sure  that  something  is  really  wrong. 
Will  you  go?" 

"If  she  call,  I  must  go.  It  is  for  that  I  am  doctor  — 
Artz  —  ja."  He  spoke  with  resignation  rather  than 
professional  enthusiasm.  Cummins  returned,  saying 
that  Mrs.  Martel  was  in  her  room  and  would  be  glad 
to  see  the  doctor  there. 

He  bade  Ariadne  good-by,  holding  her  hand  with 
fatherly  kindness.  Cummins  remained  standing  in 
the  door.  As  the  little  round  man  followed  her,  he 
gave  a  final  jovial  nod  and  smile  to  the  young  patient 


258  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

who  no  longer  needed  him.  For  some  reason,  the 
simple  tableau  —  the  vision  of  Cummins'  sturdy  back, 
with  her  face  half  turned  over  her  shoulder,  the  cheese- 
like  redness  and  rotundity  of  the  doctor's  countenance 
surmounted  by  its  twinkling  smile,  remained  in  the 
girl's  memory,  a  tangible,  a  painful  image. 

When  the  door  closed  upon  it,  she  fell  back  to  her 
dreaming.  Randolph's  letter  was  longer  and  dearer 
than  the  other  had  been.  And  in  it  was  a  hint  of  im- 
patience. He  must  see  her.  What  did  the  doctor 
say?  Did  she  wish  him  to  demand  an  interview? 
He  felt  that  he  could  not  wait  much  longer. 

She  sighed  a  little  at  such  sentences.  Life  was  tugging 
at  her  once  more.  Returning  strength  brought  its  own 
penalty,  keener  perceptions.  It  was  not  so  easy  now 
to  keep  dark  memories  at  bay. 

"  I  must  have  something  to  eat,"  she  thought.  "  Then 
I  shall  be  strong  enough  to  write  to  him." 

She  pressed  the  electric  button  by  her  bed  twice. 
Cummins  did  not  answer,  but  the  ordinary  hotel  maid 
appeared.  Ariadne  had  her  place  a  little  stand  with 
ink,  pens,  and  paper  beside  the  bed,  and  then  asked  for 
chocolate  and  rolls. 

For  two  hours  no  one  came.  She  had  finished  her 
note  and  had  it  sealed  and  waiting  until  Cummins  should 
return.  She  felt  she  could  trust  the  English  servant  to 
give  it  to  the  portier,  who  would  see  to  its  delivery. 

When  Cummins  came,  she  had  another  tray  of  food. 
"You  must  have  nourishment  every  two  'ours,  Miss," 
she  said. 

"Oh,  Cummins,  where  have  you  been  so  long?  What 
did  the  doctor  say  about  Madonna?  Is  she  worse?" 

"Mrs.  Martel  'aven't  told  me  what  'e  said,"  was 
Cummins'  answer.  Her  face  was  dull  and  rather  surly. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  259 

The  kindness  she  had  shown  during  Ariadne's  brief 
illness  was  evidently  now  to  be  discarded. 

The  invalid  sighed.  Cummins  had  been  almost 
human.  Perhaps  there  had  been  some  scene  with 
Madonna  or  an  encounter  with  the  hated  Francois. 
At  the  thought  of  the  valet  the  girl  shuddered.  Again 
she  saw  the  lifted  cap,  the  eyes  freed  from  their  goggles 
slanted  round  at  her.  Of  course  he  and  his  master  were 
back  in  the  hotel. 

Cummins  had  taken  up  the  empty  chocolate  tray  and 
was  leaving,  when  Ariadne  called  to  her. 

"Won't  you  take  this  note  to  the  little  portier  and  ask 
him  to  see  that  it  is  delivered?" 

The  woman  seemed  to  hesitate.  A  darker  look 
came  to  her  face. 

"Yes,  I'll  give  it  to  'im,"  she  finally  said. 

"And  Cummins  —  please — "  But  Cummins  was 
already  on  the  stair. 

The  girl  ate  her  creamed  toast  and  drank  the  large 
glass  of  "mellek,"  taking  no  pleasure  in  them.  Each 
moment  brought  an  increase  of  vitality  and  of  troubled 
thoughts.  She  almost  wished  she  were  not  getting  well 
so  fast.  Why  didn't  Madonna  come?  It  was  nearly 
noon.  Then  an  intense  longing  to  see  her  lover  —  to 
feel  the  strain  of  his  arms  around  her  —  made  the  girl 
toss  restlessly.  "I  won't  lie  here  any  more,"  she  told 
herself.  "If  Cummins  won't  come  to  me,  I  can  get  on 
my  slippers  and  my  wrapper  alone.  I  must  go  to  the 
window." 

Once  on  her  feet  she  realized  that  she  was  still  very 
weak  and  was  thankful  to  sink  down  in  the  easy 
chair. 

Cummins  came  up  with  a  beautifully  arranged  lunch- 
eon ;  on  the  tray  was  a  small  glass  of  white  clove 


26o  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

pinks.  "The  old  porter  sent  them.  He  saw  to  your 
letter,  Miss,"  the  maid  exclaimed. 

She  made  no  comment  upon  Ariadne's  abandonment 
of  the  bed.  Only  by  her  instinct  of  service  she  went  to 
it,  throwing  back  the  sheets  and  tidying  the  pillows. 
Ariadne  longed  to  question  her,  but  something  in  the 
woman's  look  checked  her. 

As  she  was  about  to  pass  through  the  door,  she  paused 
and  said : 

"Mrs.  Martel  is  dressed  now;  she  is  coming  up  after 
her  luncheon." 

This  statement  brought  great  relief.  If  Donna  were 
well  enough  to  climb  the  stairs  again,  everything  must  be 
all  right.  The  girl  ate  her  lunch,  and  recollecting  that 
Donna  would  need  the  one  easy  chair,  got  back  to  the 
bed,  where  she  propped  herself  upright  with  pillows. 

The  waiting  was  long,  but  finally  the  sound  of  slow, 
dragging  footsteps  could  be  heard.  Mrs.  Martel  opened 
the  door  and  leaned  there  a  moment,  exhausted.  The 
light  of  the  one  window  fell  on  her  misshapen  body  and 
her  twitching  face. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BEFORE  she  realized  it,  Ariadne  was  on  her  feet  with 
one  arm  round  the  sagging  figure. 

Donna  patted  her  hand  and  tried  to  smile.  "So  you 
are  all  right  again,  my  dear.  I  am  glad." 

The  girl  led  her  to  the  chair,  and  when  the  woman  was 
seated,  remained  stooping  over  her. 

Mrs.  Martel  moved  restlessly.  "I  can't  stand  that 
sunshine,"  she  fretted.  "Pull  the  blind  down,  Ariadne, 
and  then  you  must  get  back  to  bed,  so  you  won't  catch 
cold." 

The  girl  obeyed  but  kept  her  troubled  eyes  always  on 
her  stepmother.  There  was  something  different,  almost 
a  dignity  in  the  sick  woman,  in  spite  of  the  usual  high- 
pitched,  peevish  tones. 

"You  are  quite  all  right  again,  Doctor  Bergen  tells 
me."  Yes,  there  was  dignity  and  a  curious,  terrifying 
restraint. 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  more  to  worry  about  in  me.  I 
am  to  dress  and  go  out  just  as  usual  to-morrow.  But 
Madonna,  I'm  so  glad  you  let  the  doctor  come  to  you. 
Please  tell  me  what  he  said." 

A  shiver  passed  over  the  seated  figure.  "Oh,  nothing 
very  much ;  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  myself.  Do  you 
think  you  are  strong  enough  to  discuss  plans  a  little?" 

"Of  course  I  am.     Is  it  —  is  it  —  leaving  the  Hague  ? " 

Mrs.  Martel  nodded.  "Connie  wants  to  go  at  once. 
He  suggests  Aix  les  Bains.  But  there  are  reasons  why 
I  should  —  why  I  want  to  go  to  another  place." 


262  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Then  why  can't  he  take  his  servant  and  start  at 
once  for  France,  if  he  wishes  it?  You  and  I  can  stop 
on  here  or  go  anywhere  else  that  you  prefer." 

For  the  moment  even  Randolph  was  forgotten.  The 
habit  of  years  told  in  a  crisis.  She  must  be  with  her 
stepmother,  especially  now  in  this  mental  stress.  Some- 
thing very  special  indeed  must  be  bearing  on  that  weak, 
devoted  mind  and  heart  if  she  hesitated  to  follow  her 
husband  when  he  beckoned. 

"Things  are  difficult  all  round  just  now.  Even  the 
money  question  is  a  problem.  We  can  hardly  afford 
to  travel  separately.  Almost  the  last  dollar  of  our  in- 
come has  had  to  go  to  help  meet  that  debt  of  Connie's  in 
Paris.  There  hasn't  been  time  to  hear  from  Judge 
Henry.  If  he  would  only  cable  the  money." 

Mrs.  Martel  clasped  and  unclasped  her  hands  ner- 
vously; her  weak  chin  trembled. 

"Where  is  it  you'd  like  to  move,  Madonna?" 
'  To  London.     There  is  some  one  I  must  see  there 
—  a — a  specialist  ?  " 

"  Did  Doctor  Bergen  advise  you  to  a  specialist?  " 

"Yes  —  yes,  I  must  see  him.  I  must  be  certain!" 
She  was  fighting  back  hysteria  as  she  spoke.  She  swal- 
lowed hard,  gave  a  long,  shuddering  sigh  that  was  half 
a  sob,  and  went  on  more  steadily:  "Doctor  Bergen 
thinks  it  may  be  something  serious;  of  course  he  isn't 
sure.  Doctors  are  always  making  mistakes.  He  says 
so  himself.  I  never  thought  much  of  doctors,  anyway, 
and  his  English  is  so  poor,  maybe  I  didn't  quite  under- 
stand him.  But  I — I — can't  go  on  being  uncertain.  I 
must  see  this  specialist.  The  address  is  here,"  —  she 
showed  a  small  visiting  card.  Ariadne  had  not  noticed 
that  she  held  it. 

The  girl  got  out  of  bed  and  knelt  at  her  stepmother's 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  263 

side.  Donna  held  out  the  card,  and  Ariadne  read,  mur- 
muring the  words  aloud.  The  name,  unmistakably 
English,  with  an  address  in  Harley  Street  had  for  her 
no  special  significance. 

"He  is  the  greatest  —  one  of  the  very  greatest  — 
authorities  on  certain  troubles.     He  —  he  could  tell  at 
once.     And  I  must  know  it,  Ariadne;    I   must  know 
before  it  is  too  late." 

"Poor  Madonna  ! "  said  the  girl,  putting  an  arm  around 
the  bowed,  misshapen  body.  "Don't  tremble  so;  of 
course  we  will  go  to  London.  Mr.  Martel's  plans  — 
anybody's  plans  —  must  be  put  aside." 

The  unhappy  woman  clung  to  her  stepdaughter. 
"Oh,  Ariadne,  what  would  I  do  without  you?  You  are 
the  only  safe  thing  I  have  in  the  whole  world.  Thank 
God  you  are  with  me  !" 

"Yes  —  yes,"  said  the  girl  soothingly,  "you  know 
you  can  rely  on  me.  We  will  go  to  the  specialist ;  and 
when  we  find  that  nothing  at  all  is  wrong,  we  will  both 
laugh  at  having  been  so  frightened." 

"Connie  must  not  dream  the  real  reason  of  the  trip, 
Ariadne.  He  would  turn  from  me.  You  know  how  he 
hates  disease  and  ugliness.  If  he  knew  I  even  feared 
this  hideous,  hideous  thing-  Oh,  I  cannot  bear  it, 
Ariadne  !  What  have  I  done  that  God  should  afflict 
me  like  this  ?  I  haven't  been  a  bad  woman." 

She  had  broken  down  completely  and  was  sobbing 
and  clinging  to  the  frail  young  figure  desperately. 
Ariadne  felt  her  own  strength  ebbing.  The  room  became 
a  gray,  whirling  mist.  She  bit  her  lips  furiously. 

"Tell  me  everything,  Madonna.  You  need  me  to 
share  it  with  you.  You  can  trust  me." 

"Oh,  it  is  so  terrible,  I  cannot  speak  it.  Swear  to 
me,  Ariadne,  swear  here  on  your  knees,  in  God's  name, 


264  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

that  you  will  not,  even  by  a  hint,  let  any  other  living 
creature  suspect  it  —  at  any  rate  not  till  I  have  been  to 
London  and  am  sure." 

"I  swear  it,  dear ;  I  won't  betray  it  even  by  a  hint." 

The  woman's  head  drooped  forward.  The  one 
whispered  word  seemed  to  congeal  every  drop  of  blood 
in  the  girl's  body.  Then  a  great  shuddering  wave  of 
compassion  shook  her. 

"  Oh,  you  poor  soul,  my  poor  Madonna  !  It  can't  be 
that.  I  won't  believe  it.  Of  course  we  must  go  to 
London.  We  should  cross  by  to-morrow  night's  boat. 
For  once  you  must  insist,  you  must  defy  Mr.  Martel's 
wishes.  Nothing  else  can  count  beside  a  thing  like 
this.  What  will  you  tell  him,  though?  What  excuse 
can  you  make  to  him  ?" 

"I  haven't  thought  yet.  Perhaps  it  will  come.  Only 
I  must  do  it  in  my  own  way.  You  must  not  interfere, 
Ariadne." 

"With  him,"  said  the  girl,  and  at  the  words  her  first 
consciousness  of  this  new  and  awful  bondage  came  to 
her. 

And  Randolph,  her  lover?  Who  was  to  send  pink 
roses  in  the  morning  ?  Who  was  to  meet  her  beside  the 
Vyver  ?  What  of  Randolph  ? 

She  crawled  back  to  the  bed  and  threw  herself  face 
downward. 

Donna  began  to  talk  swiftly.  "You  are  a  dear  child, 
Ariadne.  No  daughter  could  be  more  to  me.  You 
mustn't  feel  so  badly  about  it.  Perhaps  it  is  only  a 
nightmare,  after  all.  If  only  I  can  keep  the  truth  from 
Connie  —  if  we  can  keep  the  servants  from  suspecting. 
I'm  trying  to  be  brave,  and  I  won't  believe  it's  that 
horrible  thing  the  Dutch  doctor  fears.  I  can  be  brave, 
Ariadne,  and  keep  up  until  that  other  terrible  ordeal 


ARIADNE  OF   ALLAN  WATER  265 

in  London.  If  only  I  can  be  sure  that  no  other  human 
creature  knows  what  I  fear.  You  have  promised  me 
that  —  I  am  content.  I  know  you  keep  your  promises." 

Ariadne  gave  a  groan. 

"I'm  going  to  my  own  room  now,  dear.  It's  bad  for 
you  to  have  me  talking  like  this.  I  didn't  intend  to  tell 
you,  Ariadne.  I  thought  I  would  be  strong  enough  to 
hold  it  back,  but  you  drew  it  from  me.  I  am  glad  now. 
Already  you  have  helped  me.  But  try  not  to  worry 
about  it  any  more.  We  must  both  of  us  be  strong  if  we 
are  to  take  the  night  boat  to-morrow." 

She  came  to  the  bed,  leaning  over,  and  it  was  her  heart 
too  that  reached  down  to  the  still  figure  lying  there. 
With  an  impulse  of  affection  not  usual  to  her  she  kissed 
the  girl's  hot  cheek,  and  murmuring  "  I  could  not  stand 
it  without  you,  Ariadne,"  went  down-stairs. 

The  girl  lay  on  for  hours,  motionless ;  but  now  it  was 
no  perfumed  barge  beneath  her  —  but  the  stark  struc- 
ture of  a  rack. 

Mr.  Martel,  immediately  after  luncheon,  had  given 
Francois  orders  to  begin  repacking  and  had  then  gone 
out  into  the  streets.  When  his  wife  knocked  at  his  door, 
the  valet  opened  it.  She  saw  the  preparations  for  de- 
parture and  without  comment  turned  away.  Her 
moments  of  self-abandonment  to  the  girl  up-stairs  had 
brought  her  a  strange,  new  energy,  almost  a  hope. 
She  rang  the  bell  sharply,  and  when  Cummins  entered, 
said  to  her : 

"We  are  leaving  to-morrow  night.  Francois  is  al- 
ready at  work.  I  think  you  had  better  begin,  too." 

Cummins  stood  rooted  to  the  spot.  An  obstinate, 
swollen  look  came  to  her  face.  "And  which  of  these 
dirty  foreign  'oles  is  it  to  be  next,  Ma'am?" 

"You  needn't  stick  out  your  mouth  like  that,  Cum- 


266  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

mins,"  her  mistress  remarked  severely.     "This  time  it 
is  —  London." 

Cummins  refused  to  surrender  her  sourest  expression 
at  once. 

"And  are  you  certain  of  that,  Ma'am?     'As  V 
she  nodded  toward  the  next  room  —  "said  it  was  to  be 
London?" 

"Miss  Ariadne  and  I  are  going,  whether  Mr.  Martel 
does  or  not." 

This  time  Cummins  was  convinced.  Her  grim  look 
vanished.  "Then  I'll  be  setting  to  work  this  minute, 
Ma'am,  and  I  may  say  tLcvt  ,T'!'  be  Batting  more  'eart 
in  it  than  I  'ave  for  this  year  past." 

The  two  women  worked  cheerfully;  Ariadne  was 
forgotten.  Donna's  mood  of  exhilaration  was  still  on 
when  about  teatime  Martel  strolled  in. 

"I  see  you  are  at  it,"  was  his  comment. 

"Yes,  dearest,  and  I  think  it  will  be  nice  to  have 
our  tea  served  in  here.  Then  I  won't  have  to  stop  so 
long." 

He  consented.  She  hastily  caught  up  a  mass  of  silk 
and  spangles  from  the  easiest  chair.  Cummins  vanished 
to  order  tea,  and  the  man  looked  about  with  some 
complacency. 

"  You  have  done  a  good  deal  already." 

"Yes,  haven't  we?" 

"Will  the  girl  up-stairs  be  ready  to  take  a  morning 
train?" 

"I'm  not  sure  about  a  morning  one,"  Donna  fenced. 
"But  she  will  certainly  be  strong  enough  during  the 
day.  She's  quite  herself  now.  The  doctor  is  not  com- 
ing again." 

Martel  drew  off  his  gloves.  "You  had  the  Dutchman 
in,  too,  didn't  you  ?  " 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  267 

Her  face  was  averted  as  she  replied:  "Yes,  Cummins 
and  Ariadne  insisted  on  it." 

He  gave  his  low  laugh  that  always  had  the  undernote 
of  mockery. 

"Well,  you  look  better  for  his  call.  It's  curious  how 
even  the  sight  of  a  man  calling  himself  a  doctor  influences 
you  women.  You  are  always  imagining  absurdities 
about  yourselves." 

"I  suppose  we  are,"  admitted  his  wife,  who  had  re- 
sisted seeing  a  physician  until  forced  into  it. 

Martel  surveyed  her  as  she  moved  around  the  room. 

"You  really  should  do  something  for  that  increasing 
embonpoint,  you  know.  You  are  positively  deformed." 

"I  know  it,  dear,"  she  said  plaintively,  "and  I  am 
planning  right  now  to  try  and  get  rid  of  it.  In  fact, 
Connie  darling,  that  is  the  reason  - 

"There  are  the  best  hot  baths  in  the  world  at  Aix," 
he  broke  in,  if  anything  so  languid  as  his  voice  could  be 
said  to  break  into  another's  speech.  As  usual  it  checked 
her  instantly.  "I  saw  to  that,  you  know"  -the  im- 
promptu lie  came  easily  —  "it  was  one  of  my  motives 
for  deciding  on  Aix.  I  shall  send  Francois  soon  for  the 
tickets  and  a  reserved  compartment." 

The  woman  felt  that  she  must  assert  herself.  She 
paused  in  her  work.  Her  large,  pallid  face  took  on  an 
expression  of  distress. 

"But,  Connie,"  she  begun,  when  the  servant  entered 
with  the  tea,  and  welcoming  the  respite,  she  busied  herself 
serving  it.  "All  men,"  shex  reflected  hopefully,  "are 
more  willing  to  listen  after  they  have  been  fed." 

Martel  permitted  her  ministrations  and  even  conde- 
scended to  praise  the  food.  Husband  and  wife  being 
alone,  now  was  indubitably  the  chance  to  speak. 

"I  —  I  hope  I'm  not  going  to  vex  you,  dearest,"  she 


268  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN   WATER 

began  timidly.  The  man  gave  an  imperceptible  frown 
and  was  instantly  on  his  guard,  ready  to  oppose  whatever 
her  next  statement  might  be.  "You  know  how  seldom 
I  go  against  any  suggestion  of  yours." 

"What  of  it?" 

"Only,  dear,  it  happens  this  time  I  am  very  anxious 
not  to  go  to  Aix." 

"And  your  objection?" 

"Oh,  I  haven't  anything  that  you  could  call  an  objec- 
tion," she  hastened  to  assure  him.  "It  is  only  that 
until  Judge  Henry  sends  us  that  money,  we  can't  afford 
to  travel  separately." 

"Well  —  I  expected  to  take  you  along." 

"And,  and,  dear  Connie,  there  is  another  place  where 
I  must  —  that  is  where  I  want  to  go  - 

"Not  America?"  he  said  quickly. 

"Oh,  no,  indeed.  This  is  no  distance  at  all ;  it  is  only 
to  London." 

"  The  next  thing  to  America,  and  you  know  it.  Now 
understand  me  once  for  all,  Donna.  I  shaft  not  consent 
to  bore  myself  with  London  at  this  time  of  the  year." 

"Oh,  Connie,  try  to  be  reasonable  about  it.  We  may 
not  need  to  stay  long." 

"I  don't  follow  you.  What  need  is  in  question? 
What  has  started  up  this  idea  of  London  so  suddenly  ?  " 
His  suspicions,  reaching  out,  caught  first  at  the  thought 
of  Carr  and  Ariadne. 

This  must  be  Carr's  doing;  but  how  could  he  have 
had  a  chance  of  influencing  Donna?  The  poor  soul's 
utter  servility  to  his  wishes  seldom  gave  a  margin  for 
surprises.  Martel  found  the  situation  mildly  interest- 
ing. Whatever  the  plea,  he  could  demolish  it  with  a 
little  effort,  and  if  Ariadne's  wishes  were  involved,  her 
disappointment  would  add  a  further  zest. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  269 

He  placed  one  elbow  on  the  table,  lounging  back  with 
half-closed  eyes.  She  stood  before  him,  her  loose-skinned 
hands  clasping  and  unclasping,  her  lips  moving  spas- 
modically to  find  the  right  words. 

"I  realize  that  it  does  sound  sudden,  Connie.  When, 
you  first  spoke  of  Aix,  I  didn't  mind  going  there,  you 
know  I  didn't.  But  when  the  doctor  came,  he  found 
that  there  was  a  little  something  wrong  —  my  heart  is 
not  quite  as  it  should  be,  Connie.  It  is  my  heart  that 
has  been  giving  me  pain  and  makes  this  effect  of  flesh." 

The  man  laughed.  "Nonsense,  you  must  try  a  better 
one  than  that.  The  idea  of  a  person's  heart  making 
them  fat.  You  eat  and  drink  too  much;  that's  the 
real  trouble.  The  baths  I  spoke  of  are  for  people  with 
exactly  your  complaint." 

"Don't  try  to  laugh  it  away.  It  is  serious,  Connie," 
she  insisted.  There  was  a  note  of  sincerity  that  he  could 
not  overlook. 

"I  am  to  believe  that  a  jabbering  Dutchman  has 
tried  to  frighten  you  into  thinking  yourself  ill  ?" 

"He  was  very  careful,  he  did  not  try  to  frighten  me. 
Only,  the  things  he  said  and  the  kind  of  questions  he 
asked  made  me  see  that  he  knew  what  he  was  talking 
about." 

"If  he  knows  what  he  is  talking  about,  why  doesn't 
he  cure  you?" 

"Because,  if  he  is  right,  it  is  one  of  those  things  where 
you  have  to  consult  an  authority.  Doctor  Bergen  says 
he  cannot  take  the  responsibility.  He  insists  upon  my 
going  to  London." 

"Do  you  realize  what  fees  these  English  specialists 
ask?" 

"We  can't  think  of  that,  Connie.  The  money  must 
be  found,  some  way.  Even  if  it  takes  a  lot,  it  will  be 


270  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

better  than  that  I  should  die  and  you  be  left  without  - 
she  broke  off  abruptly.     Her  frightened  face  showed 
that  she  had  gone  further  than  she  intended.     He  looked 
up,  and  his  eyes  narrowed. 

She  gasped  and  pressed  both  her  hands  against  her 
breast.  For  an  instant  she  staggered;  then  the  man, 
angry  with  her  because  of  the  necessity,  took  her  roughly 
by  the  arm  and  made  her  sit  in  the  chair  he  had  vacated. 

"Now  we  will  have  this  thing  out,"  he  said. 

She  seemed  unable  to  speak,  but  sat  gasping  up  at 
him,  her  pale,  swollen  eyes  begging  for  pity. 

"How  much  longer  are  you  to  keep  me  standing 
here?" 

"Don't  look  — like  that,"  she  panted.  "You  must 
not  let  yourself  —  be  cruel.  I  could  not  stand  it  now. 
I've  been  through  too  much.  I  think  if  you  speak  cruelly 
I  might  die  here  at  once  —  and  then,  oh,  Connie,  oh,  my 
poor  darling  — 

The  man  clenched  his  teeth.  There  was  something 
real  in  all  this.  He  had  never  hated  her  as  he  did  at  that 
moment,  but  his  instinct  of  self-preservation  cautioned 
him  to  control  his  rage.  He  felt  the  cold  touch  of  her 
forthcoming  disclosure.  Yes,  no  matter  how  disastrous 
to  himself,  he  must  be  calm. 

The  fear  of  death  and  something  more  was  on  the 
shivering  creature  whom  Martel  called  his  wife.  No 
matter  how  little  he  gave  her  or  what  ill-usage  she  had 
suffered  from  him,  the  wretched  woman  had  laid  her 
very  life  at  his  feet,  still  worshiped  abjectly  at  his 
shrine.  Yet  it  needed  all  of  his  carefully  acquired  com- 
posure, all  the  cunning  of  self-interest,  to  keep  him  stand- 
ing there  waiting  until  she  chose  to  speak. 

"Oh,  I've  done  wrong  not  to  tell  you  this  before, 
Connie.  You  must  try  to  forgive  me.  I  loved  you  so 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  271 

dearly;  I  could  not  risk  anything  that  might  lessen 
whatever  claims  I  had  upon  you.  I  was  not  an  old 
woman  when  you  married  me.  I  had  every  right  to 
expect  to  live  years  and  years,  just  giving  myself  and  all 
I  had  to  you.  Ariadne  said  I  had  done  wrong  not  to 
tell  you,  but  she  was  only  a  child,  and  it  didn't  seem  — " 

"  Never  mind  about  Ariadne.  This  concerns  ourselves 
alone,"  he  said  between  his  teeth. 

"  Oh,  but  it  doesn't.  That  is  just  the  terrible  thing. 
Oh,  Connie,  it's  this  way.  That  will—" 

"  You  mean  your  husband's  will  ?  The  one  you  would 
never  let  me  see  ? " 

"Yes.  I  wish  now  I  had  told  you  everything.  The 
money  was  mine.  You  know  I've  always  been  good  to 
her.  Look  at  the  clothes  she  has." 

The  man  writhed  in  his  skin.  How  much  longer 
could  he  endure  this  fatuous  babble.  "Curse  Ariadne," 
he  spat  out.  "Try,  for  God's  sake,  once  in  your  life,  to 
keep  to  the  point  —  and  to  be  truthful.  You  have 
never  been  straight  with  me.  You  have  lied  about 
your  age,  about  the  hold  Skipwith's  daughter  has  on 
you.  That  came  out  in  a  moment  of  fright  only  a  few 
days  ago.  Now  it  seems  I'm  to  be  given  still  another 
pleasant  surprise.  Have  it  out !  Don't  sit  there  gog- 
gling up  at  me.  God  !  What  is  coming  ?  Say  it  — 
speak  —  I'm  not  going  to  touch  you." 

He  turned  his  head  and  pressed  a  scented  handkerchief 
against  lips  that  he  knew  were  trembling. 

"Oh,  that's  right,"  he  heard  her  whisper,  "don't 
look  at  me  while  I  tell  you;  then  you'll  see  why  you 
must  help  me  to  get  well.  I  have  no  power  over  the 
money  after  death.  It  all  goes  to  Mr.  Skipwith's 
daughter." 

She  crouched  back  in  the  chair,  covering  her  face.    The 


272  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

man  stood  perfectly  still.  He  had  not  taken  the  hand- 
kerchief from  his  mouth.  When  finally  he  spoke,  his 
voice  was  muffled  against  its  folds. 

"Yet  you  told  me  before  I  married  you  —  and  many 
times  after  —  that  the  fortune  was  yours  absolutely, 
that  the  girl  had  been  disinherited  and  left  your  pen- 
sioner. When  I  asked  you  if  no  provision  had  been  made 
in  case  of  her  marriage,  you  swore  that  no  condition  of 
any  sort  had  been  imposed  upon  you." 

"That  was  the  truth,  Connie.  I  did  not  deceive 
you  there.  It  was  stated  in  the  will  that  her  marriage 
was  to  make  no  difference  between  us.  The  only  thing 
I  didn't  dare  to  tell  you  was  that  I  hadn't  the  power  to 
leave  it  all  to  you,  dear.  You  know  that  is  what  I 
would  do.  Perhaps,  even  as  things  are,  if  we  appealed 
to  Ariadne  — 

The  man  checked  her  with  a  gesture.  Now  he  took 
down  the  handkerchief.  There  was  a  crimson  stain  on 
the  linen.  He  came  closer,  looking  down  with  a  face 
which  held  all  the  hate  and  evil  of  his  nature.  One 
corner  of  his  mouth  twitched  in  a  desperate  smile. 

"You  were  wise  not  to  tell  me  sooner,"  he  said. 

She  sobbed  on  quietly.  Now  everything  was  told 
except  one  thing.  She  must  still  keep  back  the  real 
reason  of  her  visit  to  a  specialist.  When  that  was  over 
—  and  the  fear  lifted  —  there  should  never  be  another 
shadow  of  deception.  He  had  listened  quite  patiently 
for  him.  The  full,  malignant  significance  of  his  last 
remark  passed  over  her  unhappy  head.  She  was  thank- 
ful for  the  quiet  of  his  tones. 

He  had  turned  again  and  was  standing  by  a  window, 
looking  out.  She  lifted  tear-swollen  eyes  to  watch  him. 
Against  the  crimson  curtain  his  dark  head  and  clear, 
olive  skin  glowed  with  the  beauty  of  some  great  portrait, 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  273 

one  of  those  supernal  treasures  found  here  and  there  in 
long  galleries  of  lesser  paintings,  that  hold  the  secret 
of  immortality  —  giving  out  warmth  and  tone  and  the 
very  radium  of  life,  making  the  frail,  ephemeral,  human 
things  that  pass  before  it  seem  like  a  drift  of  fallen 
leaves. 

Forgetting  herself  in  this  adoration  of  the  man  who 
utterly  obsessed  and  dominated  her,  she  rose  slowly 
and  made  her  way  to  his  side.  The  long  folds  of  the 
curtain  shook  with  his  sudden  clutch  upon  it.  He 
thought  his  very  flesh  must  scream  as  she  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  arm. 

"Then  you  will  take  me  to  London,  Connie  dear?" 

"Yes,  we  will  go  to  London." 

"And  you  don't  hate  your  poor  little  Donna?" 

He  threw  back  his  head  and  could  have  laughed  aloud. 
She  nestled  her  faded,  blond  head  against  his  shoulder. 

Hate  her  —  oh,  no.  She  was  now  too  well  armed  for 
hate ;  but  if  death  could  bring  the  money  free  and  un- 
hindered into  his  control  —  how  the  long,  olive  fingers 
now  flattened  waxen-vDllow  against  the  curtain  would 
sink  into  that  swollen  throat ;  how  they  would  tighten ; 
oh,  to  tear,  to  torture,  to  kill  this  feeble  vampire  who  had 
had  the  skill  to  trick  him  !  One  moment  longer,  with 
her  perfumed  head  against  him,  and  money  or  no  money, 
he  must  kill  her. 

He  wrenched  himself  away  and  turned  to  his  own 
room. 

"Oh,  Connie !"  came  the  feeble  protest. 

In  answer  she  heard  the  key  turn  in  his  lock. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THAT  same  afternoon,  when  Cummins  entered  with 
the  tea,  she  found  Ariadne  lying  so  utterly  still  that 
she  thought  the  girl  asleep.  Setting  the  tray  down 
noiselessly,  the  maid  stood  debating  whether  or  not  to 
speak. 

"It's  all  right,  Cummins.     I  shall  drink  it  presently." 

"Then  you're  not  feeling  worse,  Miss  Skipwith,  as  I 
feared  when  I  saw  you  stretched  there  so  dead-like." 

"No,"  Ariadne  replied.  "I  am  getting  strength  all 
the  time.  I  was  only  thinking  hard." 

"We've  all  got  pleasant  things  to  think  of  now," 
said  Cummins,  genially.  "I'm  fair  'eartened  myself 
with  this  going  to  London  so  soon.  I  couldn't  'a'  stood 
it  much  longer." 

"Yes,  we  are  going.  I  will  try  to  do  a  little  packing 
later." 

"Don't  you  bother,  Miss  Ariadne.  I  can  get  you 
ready  in  no  time  at  all.  Mrs.  Martel  'as  a  good  start 
a'ready.  They  are  drinking  tea  down  there  in  her  room 
together.  She's  likely  'aving  it  out  with  him  about 
going.  'Im  and  'is  valet  aren't  carin'  much  for  Heng- 
land.  So  much  the  better  for  Hengland,  is  what  I 
say!" 

Ariadne  could  not  discuss  her  family  affairs  with  a 
servant.  Yet  she  did  not  check  the  unwonted  flow  of 
eloquence.  After  a  few  more  caustic  observations 
Cummins  departed. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  275 

The  girl  drank  slowly.  The  health  and  perfect  sound- 
ness of  her  young  body  had  responded  with  marvelous 
rapidity  to  its  recent  hours  of  rest  and  nourishment. 
When  she  stood  or  walked,  no  sense  of  weakness  was 
felt.  Crossing  the  room  to  the  small  mirror,  she  pushed 
the  heavy  hair  back  from  her  forehead.  A  pair  of  deep 
brooding  eyes  met  hers.  The  unsmiling  mouth  had, 
somehow,  an  older  look.  But  the  face  was  not  that  of 
an  invalid. 

"I  never  felt  stronger  in  my  life,"  was  her  thought. 
The  garb  of  slippers  and  a  loose  wrapper  seemed  incon- 
gruous. She  felt  restless,  almost  irritated,  in  the  ham- 
pering folds.  "I  can't  pack  with  these  kimono  sleeves 
in  the  way,"  she  told  herself,  "  and  I  must  have  something 
to  do.  I  can't  lie  there  thinking." 

Ringing  for  hot  water,  she  deliberately  set  about 
making  her  toilette,  at  first  rather  cautiously,  since  the 
doctor  had  said  she  must  wait  until  to-morrow.  Possibly 
the  weakness  might  return.  After  slipping  a  last  pin 
in  her  hair,  she  sat  down  by  the  window  looking  out 
across  the  Tournooiveld. 

She  longed  to  be  out  there  among  the  trees.  The 
air  of  the  little  room  was  oppressive.  If  she  could  only 
see  her  lover  for  a  moment.  It  seemed  hard  to  have 
to  wait  for  another  day,  when  her  heart  and  her 
strengthened  body  also  twitched  with  impatient  energy. 

She  rose  and  finished  dressing,  tying  the  sash  that 
fell  over  her  frock  of  delicate  blue  muslin.  Now  she 
felt  entirely  herself  and  moved  about,  opening  trunks 
and  laying  out  things  ready  for  packing.  With  a  skirt 
half-folded  she  paused  and  let  her  hands  and  the  gar- 
ment fall  to  her  sides.  Ought  she  to  let  Randolph  know 
that  they  would  leave  to-morrow  night?  Way  back 
in  that  dim  black  experience  already  far  away,  when 


276  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

he  had  rescued  her,  there  was  something  he  had  whis- 
pered about  plans.  He  might  be  making  arrangements 
for  her,  arrangements  which,  because  of  Donna's  new 
and  terrible  urgency,  could  not  be  carried  out.  As  she 
hesitated,  a  knock  came  to  her  door.  She  opened,  to 
find  one  of  the  bell  boys  holding  out  a  note. 

"Mynheer  wishes  reply,  Mademoiselle,"  he  said. 

It  was  from  Randolph. 

"  MY  OWN  DARLING  :  The  portier  has  just  told  me 
that  your  stepmother  is  leaving  the  Hague  to-morrow. 
Dearest,  I  must  see  you !  I  will  be  very,  very  con- 
siderate, and  shall  keep  you  only  a  few  moments ;  but 
come,  unless  it  is  a  physical  impossibility.  I  longed 
for  you  specially  a  little  while  ago,  for  I  hunted  up 
Big  Jan,  and  when  I  had  made  him  hold  out  those 
huge  cheese-scoops  of  his,  I  heaped  them  both  with 
ten-guilder  pieces,  all  new  and  shining  gold.  I  didn't 
quite  have  the  nerve  to  hand  out  chink  to  the 
portier  —  God  bless  him  !  — •  so  instead  I  put  a  tidy 
little  sum  to  his  credit  in  a  leading  bank  here,  and 
slipped  him  the  receipt  made  out  in  his  own  name. 
At  first  he  wouldn't  take  it,  but  I  bullied  him  till  he 
had  to  promise.  Then  he  made  me  lean  down,  as  I 
thought,  to  whisper  thanks,  —  but,  good  Lord  !  —  he 
kissed  me  !  Wasn't  that  awful ! 

"  Come  to  me,  dearest  darling.  I  am  in  private 
sitting-room  32,  on  the  second  floor,  waiting.  Yours 
until  death, 

"  RANDY." 

To  this  she  replied  hastily  in  writing:  "I  am  well 
enough  now  and  shall  be  down  at  once.  A." 

Ariadne  ran  to  the  mirror  again.  Her  face  was 
glowing.  "  Oh,  I  am  glad  I  have  lost  that  ghostly  look." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  277 

She  longed  to  fly  to  him,  yet  an  intense  shyness  held  her 
back.  She  stood  in  the  center  of  the  little  room,  trying 
to  subdue  the  fluttering  of  her  heart.  Her  eyes  fell 
upon  the  pink-centered  roses,  and  selecting  two  at  ran- 
dom, she  pinned  them  to  her  blue  gown.  Her  fingers 
trembled  and  grew  cold. 

"I  am  weak  yet,"  she  told  herself,  "and  I'm  silly  to 
feel  so  frightened  at  the  thought  of  seeing  him,  when  it 
is  the  thing  I  long  for  most,"  and  then,  in  spite  of  knees 
which  threatened  to  give  way  at  any  moment,  she  went 
slowly  down  the  stairs. 

The  door  of  Number  32  was  slightly  ajar.  She  went 
up  to  it.  Her  feet  on  the  thick  hall  carpets  had  made  no 
sound.  She  knew  that  he  was  waiting.  Her  heart  and 
soul  reached  out  to  him,  yet  she  faltered,  and  it  seemed 
a  physical  impossibility  to  take  the  next  step. 

She  put  her  right  hand  out  to  push  open  the  door, 
and  with  her  left  she  clung  to  the  frame.  Randolph 
must  have  seen  the  clinging  ringers,  for  he  strode  across 
the  room,  flung  back  the  panel,  and  with  a  low  cry  of 
"  Ariadne,"  drew  her  in  to  him,  folding  his  arms  about 
her. 

For  a  long  while  they  did  not  speak,  only  clung  silently 
together.  Then  he  lifted  her  face  and  kissed  her.  She 
let  her  head  fall  backward  upon  his  arm.  Her  eyes  were 
closed  in  the  ecstasy  of  meeting. 

"My  love  —  my  white  rose  —  my  Ariadne,"  he  mur- 
mured between  the  kisses.  "Don't  shiver  so,  my 
darling.  Everything  is  all  right  for  us.  Come  over 
here  to  this  big  lounge,  poor  little  invalid.  We  must 
talk  a  little,  just  a  little.  I  won't  keep  you  long  this 
time." 

Again  upon  the  sofa  there  were  kisses  and  long,  silent, 
strained  embraces.  It  seemed  a  hardship  to  both  young 


278  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

hearts  that  there  should  be  a  necessity  for  speech,  even 
for  thinking  —  when  silence  was  so  dear. 

Randolph  was  the  first  to  pull  himself  together.  He 
drew  back,  only  keeping  the  two  cold  hands  in  his. 

"Now,   see  here,   darling,   we've  got   to   talk.     The 

portier  says  those  unspeakable  creatures,  those  Martels 

—  are  off  to  a  place  in  Germany.     I  forget  the  name, 

but  that  doesn't  matter.     Of  course  you  are  not   to 

go-" 

''They  have  changed,"  she  managed  to  say;  "they 
won't  go  to  Germany." 

"Germany,  China,  or  Patagonia  —  it's  all  the  same  to 
me ;  the  farther  off  the  better.  Have  they  decided  on  a 
train?" 

"To-morrow  night,  I  think." 

"I'm  sorry  it  isn't  earlier." 

The  girl  said  nothing. 

"Now  listen,  precious  one,  I've  been  doing  some 
cabling  and  letter-writing  of  my  own.  Do  you  think 
that  by  to-morrow  you  will  be  strong  enough  to  make  the 
crossing  to  England  by  yourself?" 

"You  —  you  want  me  to  go  to  England  ? " 

"Yes,  dear,  though  I  dread  you  to  have  to  take  the 
journey  without  me,  I  can  put  you  in  the  boat  at  Flush- 
ing, and  you  will  be  met  in  London  by  a  Mrs.  Austin  — 
in  fact  she's  Lady  Austin  —  and  is  a  connection  of  your 
own.  She  was  Lydia  Fairfax  of  Wynne  Hall  near  Cul- 
peper  and  is  an  intimate  friend  of  your  cousin,  Judge 
Henry.  I  got  in  touch  with  her  by  wire.  That  is  not 
all.  I  have  sent  a  cable  to  your  cousin  Judge,  urging 
him  to  sail  immediately.  Well,  I  won't  tell  you  exactly 
what  I  said,  but  I  feel  sure  he  will  take  the  next  fast 
steamer." 

"Will  he  come  to  London,  too?" 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  279 

"Straight  as  the  Plymouth  express  can  bring  him,  I 
believe." 

"Oh,  Randolph,  you  are  doing  all  this  just  for  me." 

He  laughed  and  caught  her  to  him.  "Yes,  my  pre- 
cious, just  for  you.  Strange,  isn't  it,  that  a  fellow  should 
go  to  such  awful  trouble  —  just  for  the  girl  he  worships  ? 
Now  how  soon  can  you  have  your  things  packed?" 

Instead  of  answering  she  clung  to  him.  For  the  first 
time  it  was  she  who  sought  his  kisses.  She  could  not, 
it  would  seem,  have  enough  of  love.  If  he  tried  to  speak, 
her  lips  pressed  back  the  words,  so  closely  did  her  mouth 
cling  to  his.  There  was  so  intense,  so  desperate  a  yield- 
ing, that  the  young  man's  head  reeled  with  it.  Finally 
he  tore  himself  away. 

"You — you  madden  me,  Ariadne,"  he  said  un- 
steadily. "Oh,  my  love,  my  adorable  love,  in  a  few 
days  more  we  can  be  together  always.  We  won't  need 
then  to  think  or  plan.  When  can  you  be  ready  to 
start  for  Flushing?" 

There  was  no  use  trying  to  escape  it  any  longer. 
Ariadne  huddled  herself  together.  The  exquisite,  shift- 
ing color  went  from  her  face. 

"Sit  down,  Randy,"  she  whispered,  "I  will  talk  now. 
Something  has  happened  ;  I  must  tell  you  - 

He  sat  by  her  again,  wondering  at  the  utter  change 
that  had  taken  place. 

"I  can't  follow  your  plans  —  not  yet,  anyway.  I  am 
going  to  London,  but  not  your  way.  Don't  let  Cousin 
Nellie's  friend  try  to  meet  me.  I  must  go  with  my 
stepmother." 

The  young  man  frowned.  "You  prefer  to  go  with  her 
after  —  after  —  well,  we  needn't  think  of  that." 

"It  isn't  that  I  prefer  it.  If  I  could  have  my  own 
way,  I  would  never  again  on  earth  do  anything  but 


28o  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

what  pleased  you.  But  just  now,  for  a  little  while 
longer,  I  must  stay  with  Madonna." 

Randolph  still  looked  annoyed.  "Oh,  well,  I  suppose 
her  being  alone  can  make  no  material  difference.  Of 
course  that  brute,  Martel,  isn't  going?" 

Ariadne's  head  drooped.     "Yes,  he  is  going,  too." 

Randolph  leaned  back,  his  eyes  fixed  on  her.  All  the 
boyish  happiness  went  out  of  his  face. 

"You  mean  he  is  going  with  you  to  London?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  his  French  chauffeur-valet  ?" 

"I  suppose  so." 

"In  fact,  the  entire  happy  family.  Just  as  it  was 
before  I  met  you  here." 

"I  can't  help  myself,  Randy." 

The  man  got  to  his  feet.  "Well,  I  can  help  myself," 
he  said,  "and  I  can  help  you,  too.  I  won't  stand 
it." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  sat  with  clasped  hands  and 
down-dropped  eyes.  Her  lips,  now  utterly  bloodless, 
were  pressed  together. 

Randolph's  heart  smote  him.  He  went  to  her,  lifting 
her  unresponsive  hands. 

"Dear  little  girl,  forgive  me  for  speaking  so  roughly. 
I  forgot,  just  for  the  moment,  that  you  had  been  ill. 
Only  you  must  see  for  yourself  that  I  cannot  let  you  pass 
another  night  under  the  same  roof  as  that  fiend,  much 
less  allow  you  to  travel  with  him.  Things  have  changed. 
Now  you  belong  to  me.  I've  the  right  to  look  after 
you.  Just  as  soon  as  Judge  Henry  gets  here,  we  are 
going  to  have  a  quiet  little  wedding.  Don't  you  see 
for  yourself,  dear,  that  I  couldn't  possibly  let  the  woman 
I'm  to  marry  continue  to  be  near  such  a  man  ?" 

"I  know  how  you  feel  about  it,  Randolph.     It's  a 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  281 

million  times  more  terrible  to  me.  But  I  can't  leave 
Donna." 

"Is  it  a  choice  then  between  me  and  your  step- 
mother?" 

She  caught  his  hand.  "Don't  say  such  a  thing. 
There's  nobody  in  the  world  but  you ;  oh,  don't  you  see 
how  I  love  you?" 

"You  say  that,  and  yet  in  the  same  breath  persist 
in  a  thing  that  no  decent  man  would  tolerate." 

"I  must  bear  it  a  little  longer;  oh,  if  I  could  make 
you  understand  !" 

"I  fear  you  cannot,  Ariadne.  The  point  at  issue  is 
very  clear.  The  girl  that  I  am  to  marry  can't  remain 
in  close  association  with  a  man  who  has  offered  her  the 
grossest  insult  a  woman  can  receive  !  Except  for  the 
menace  to  your  good  name,  I  should  have  shot  him,  and 
there's  not  a  jury  on  earth  but  would  have  cleared  me. 
You  are  no  child.  You  realize  clearly  the  peril  you 
were  in.  God!  When  I  think  of  it !"  He  threw  back 
his  head  and  ran  his  fingers  through  his  thick  hair. 
"But  I  must  keep  that  vision  away,  or  I'll  do  murder 
yet.  Ariadne  —  Ariadne  —  don't  you  see  what  it  means 
to  me  that  you  should  have  been  —  for  those  hours  — 
at  his  mercy  ?  " 

She  gave  a  little  moaning  sound  of  assent. 

"You  would  have  a  right  to  despise  me  if  I  consented 
to  your  stopping  on  with  him." 

"I  need  never  speak  to  him  or  look  at  him." 

"What  difference  does  that  make?  He  will  be  there. 
He  can  look  at  you,  when  every  glance  is  contamination. 
He  can  sit  by  you  —  even  touch  you  —  God  in  heaven  ! 
That's  what  I  will  not  stand  ! "  He  rose  to  his  feet  again 
and  walked  rapidly  back  and  forth,  fighting  for  self- 
control. 


282  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

The  girl  on  the  sofa  did  not  move.  Randolph  strode 
to  the  window,  staring  down  into  the  street.  Mechani- 
cally he  put  his  hand  to  an  inner  pocket.  He  drew  out 
a  still  folded  paper  that  had  a  legal  look.  He  seemed 
unconscious  that  he  held  or  looked  at  it.  Then  the  type- 
written words  across  the  folded  top  grew  into  a  meaning : 
"Patredis  versus  Patredis"  — 

He  opened  the  foolscap,  glancing  down  the  page. 
Again  he  stared  from  the  window,  his  brows  drawn  to- 
gether in  thought.  Then,  folding  the  paper  deliberately 
and  holding  it  in  his  hand,  he  went  back  to  Ariadne. 

"Listen,  dear,  I  have  something  else  to  say  to  you. 
It  is  ugly  and  rather  terrible.  Do  you  feel  strong  enough 
to  bear  it?" 

"Yes,"  she  whispered  and  almost  smiled,  for  what 
could  be  so  terrible  as  the  things  he  had  already  said 
to  her  ? 

"I'm  sorry  that  I  have  to  bring  this  out  so  soon  I 
proposed  to  wait.  But  this  present  issue  forces  it." 

"Yes,"  she  said  again. 

"Now,  don't  be  frightened.  Here,  come  a  little 
closer." 

She  crept  up  to  him  with  a  sigh  of  thankfulness.  He 
kissed  her  hair,  and  went  on:  "Do  you  remember  that 
morning  at  the  little  restaurant  when  we  were  having 
chocolate  together,  I  gave  you,  as  an  example  of  the 
kind  of  legal  work  I  wouldn't  touch,  the  case  of  a  man 
who  was  then  being  blackmailed  through  our  office  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  remember  well." 

"And  that  same  morning  you  told  me  Martel  was  in 
desperate  straits  and  making  your  stepmother  miser- 
able about  twenty  thousand  dollars  he  needed?" 

"Yes." 

"Certain  things  you  said  then  aroused  my  suspicions. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  283 

I  cabled  that  night  to  our  New  York  office  —  and  have 
had  their  answer." 

She  lifted  her  beautiful,  saddened  eyes  to  his  face. 
He  hesitated.  "Perhaps  you'd  better  not  look  at  me 
just  that  way,  dear,  or  I  shan't  have  the  courage  to 
go  on." 

The  pink  flush  came  again  as  she  buried  her  face  against 
his  shoulder. 

"  To  come  to  the  point  at  once,  my  suspicions  were 
right :  the  man  Patredis  is  Martel." 

The  girl  drew  herself  upright.  She  could  not  com- 
prehend at  once  all  that  his  statement  involved. 
Divorce,  alimony,  and  blackmail  were  things  that  had 
not  touched  her  life. 

"Had  Mr.  Martel  been  married  before  ?"  she  asked. 

"Very  much  so,"  Randolph  replied.  "He  was  di- 
vorced from  this  woman,  or  she  from  him,  only  a  few 
months  before  he  met  your  stepmother.  The  divorce 
was  one  of  those  loose,  trumped-up  affairs  they  permit 
to  go  through  the  courts  in  some  of  our  Western  States. 
Afterwards,  when  Patredis'  wife  heard  he  had  married  a 
rich  widow,  she  began  looking  about  for  a  flaw  in  the 
process.  This  was  comparatively  easy  to  find.  She 
traced  him  to  Europe  under  the  new  name  of  Martel." 

"It  is  not  even  his  own  name?"  gasped  Ariadne  with 
such  horror  that  Randolph  smiled  tenderly. 

"You  dear  innocent !  If  he  were  the  only  scamp  wan- 
dering about  Europe  with  a  false  label !  But  that 
amounts  to  nothing.  The  really  dreadful  part  is  that 
your  stepmother  was  never  legally  married  to  him." 

The  girl  fell  back,  dazed  and  staring.  Randolph 
involuntarily  looked  away. 

"It  makes  me  sick  to  have  these  loathsome  things 
dragged  before  you,  Ariadne.  But  Fate  has  mixed  you 


284  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

up  in  some  queer  snarls.  Only  let  me  get  you  out  for 
once  and  all." 

But  Ariadne  was  beating  her  hands  together.  "You 
must  not  tell  Donna ;  oh,  don't  tell  Donna." 

"That  is  the  worst  of  all,  isn't  it?"  he  said  com- 
passionately. "Lord,  I  shall  hate  it!  But  I  must; 
my  facts  are  here  in  this  paper.  The  poor  soul  cannot 
doubt  it." 

"You  must  not  tell  her,  I  say,"  repeated  the  girl 
wildly. 

"But,  dear  heart,  it  is  the  best  way  of  shaking  off 
Martel.  It  is  the  only  way." 

"Why  not  go  to  him  then?"  demanded  Ariadne. 

"Because  he  would  deny  it  and  challenge  me  for 
proofs.  He  would  be  sure  to  make  a  feint  of  going  to 
law  against  me,  knowing  that  the  full  evidence  could  not 
reach  me  for  some  time,  and  I  will  not  risk  you  near  him 
till  the  papers  come." 

"But  that  paper  in  your  hand?" 

"  This  is  only  a  copy  of  a  part,  not  by  any  means  the 
full  evidence." 

"But  you  think  it  enough  to  convince  Donna." 

"More  than  enough." 

"Randolph,  you  can't  tell  her.     She  is  not  well." 

"Nonsense,  Ariadne.  I  saw  her  in  the  hallway  as  I 
came  in.  She  was  chattering  away  to  the  manager,  and 
I  thought  her  unusually  animated.  Fortunately,  she 
did  not  catch  sight  of  me." 

"That  was  only  excitement  at  the  thought  of  leaving. 
I  tell  you  she  is  ill.  The  doctor  was  here  this  morning. 
Oh,  can  it  be  only  this  morning  !  Already  it  seems  as  if 
I  must  have  known  it  for  a  year  ! " 

"  Known  it  ?    What  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

Ariadne  caught  herself  together.     "Nothing,  only  that 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  285 

she  is  not  well."     Then  she  turned  to  him,  lifting  his 
hand  in  both  of  hers. 

"It's  so  dreadful.  It's  all  so  dreadful.  But,  Randy, 
won't  you  trust  me  in  just  this  one  thing?  Don't  let 
Donna  know  it  yet.  Wait  until  we  get  to  London." 

"And  have  you  cross  the  Channel  and  go  to  a  London 
hotel  with  that  man?" 

"I  must  —  I  must,"  she  moaned. 

He  took  away  his  hand.  "I  must  confess  that  I 
don't  know  what  to  think  of  you,  Ariadne.  After  what 
passed  at  the  Black  Village  - 

"Don't  —  don't  bring  that  back;  I  couldn't  endure 
it,"  she  cried  sharply. 

"I  must  bring  it  back,  if  it  clears  your  reason.  As  for 
that  miserable  woman,  she  deserves  what  she  is  getting." 

"You  don't  know,  or  you  couldn't  be  so  cruel." 

"Cruel !"  he  echoed  I  "  And  what  is  your  treatment 
of  me?" 

"You  will  not  understand  —  some  day  —  oh,  my  dear 
lover,  can't  you  trust  me  just  a  little  while  ?"  She  flung 
her  arms  about  him,  but  he  sat  unresponsive  as  a  statue 
of  bronze.  She  fell  back,  shuddering. 

"I  can't  lose  him;  I  can't  lose  him,"  her  tortured 
heart  was  crying.  "Let  everything  else  go  —  but  keep 
the  happiness  of  his  love." 

"I  had  better  go,  Ariadne,"  he  said,  rising.  "I'm 
sure  that  it  is  your  weakness  and  the  suddenness  with 
which  I  have  had  to  present  this  that  makes  you  unable 
to  see  reason.  You  can't  start  now  until  to-morrow 
night.  Let  me  see  you  again  in  the  morning.  By  that 
time  you  will  have  thought  things  out." 
.  "Yes,  yes,"  she  sobbed,  "that  will  be  better." 

He  walked  toward  the  door,  but  she  sprang  after  him. 
"  Don't  leave  me  like  this,  Randy."  He  turned,  his 


286  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

face  still  dark  and  set ;  but  as  she  came  nearer,  he  opened 
his  arms. 

When  at  last  he  went,  he  said  in  parting:  "Try  to 
forget  the  rough  things  that  I  said,  precious.  Remember 
only  that  I  love  you  —  that  soon  you  are  to  be  my  own 
dear  wife  —  and  that  I  would  fight  the  devil  for  you  with 
his  own  pitchfork  —  and  spit  him  on  it,  too." 

"Dear,  dearest  love,"  she  whispered,  "and  I  want  you 
to  remember  that  the  only  happiness  I  have  had  in  my 
whole  life  is  what  you  have  brought  me." 

"Dear  little  girl,  I  hate  to  say  good-by  —  even  for  a 
few  hours.  Go  back  to  your  room  now  and  try  to  get 
a  long  night's  sleep.  We'll  meet  to-morrow  by  the 
Vyver." 

"Yes,  by  the  Vyver,  where  we  first  really  met." 

He  kissed  her  again  and  went.  As  she  climbed  the 
steep  stairs  to  her  room,  each  heavy  tread  seemed  to  fall 
as  lead  upon  the  girl's  breaking  heart. 

Ariadne's  dinner  was  served  up-stairs,  and  later  in  the 
evening  Mrs.  Martel  came  up  to  her.  She  knew  nothing 
of  Randolph's  visit,  and  Ariadne  did  not  speak  of  it. 
Even  had  she  wished  to  do  so,  the  time  would  have  been 
unpropitious,  for  Donna  was  overflowing  with  her  own 
affairs. 

"I  have  told  Connie  about  the  will  at  last,"  she  said 
triumphantly.  "Oh,  he  was  so  noble;  of  course  it 
shocked  him  a  little,  but  he  controlled  himself  at  once. 
We  have  just  eaten  dinner  together  —  and  Connie  had 
violets  on  the  table.  These  are  some  of  them." 

She  smiled  and  looked  down  upon  a  cluster  of  fragrant, 
purple  flowers  pinned  to  her  spangled  evening  dress. 
"He  is  perfectly  reconciled  to  going  to  London.  Oh, 
Ariadne,  I  do  believe  he  is  getting  into  one  of  his  very 
nicest  spells.  It  makes  me  so  happy.  But  you  are 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  287 

looking  very  pale  again.  You  must  go  straight  to  bed, 
my  dear.  It  will  be  a  very  busy  day  for  all  of  us  to- 
morrow. Now  I'll  run  down-stairs  again,  for  I  need  my 
beauty  sleep,  too." 

"One  moment,  Madonna,  did  you  tell  him  —  any- 
thing of  what  the  doctor  said  ?" 

"Oh,  dear,  no.  I  didn't  need  to.  I  just  said  it  was  a 
weak  heart.  It  may  be  only  that.  Somehow  I  seem 
to  feel  sure  that  little  Doctor  Bergen  was  mistaken." 

"You  still  mean  to  keep  me  to  that  promise  of 
silence?" 

"Of  course.  Now,  more  than  ever.  But  who  on 
earth  would  you  want  to  tell  ?" 

Ariadne  said  nothing.  A  brief  struggle  was  in  her 
mind.  Should  she  tell  Donna  everything,  throw  her- 
self on  the  older  woman's  mercy,  and  ask  to  be  released  ? 
There  might  be  just  a  possibility. 

Mrs.  Martel  went  on,  sustaining  the  note  of  shrill 
inquiry.  "You  don't  even  know  anybody  here,  unless 
that  wretched  Randolph  Carr  is  still  hanging  around. 
I  should  think  he'd  have  the  grace  to  leave  us  after  being 
the  cause  of  your  accident." 

Ariadne  stared  in  pure  amazement.  "He,  the  cause  ! 
Why,  Donna,  he  was  the  one  who  saved  me ;  he  brought 
me  back." 

"You  know  very  well  that  it  was  because  Connie 
thought  he  ought  to  warn  you  against  Mr.  Carr  that  he 
planned  to  have  you  alone." 

"Oh!"  said  Ariadne.  There  was  nothing  else  she 
could  say. 

"I  never  saw  any  one  so  cut  up  over  a  thing  as  Connie 
was  over  that  accident.  He  couldn't  seem  to  get  it 
off  his  poor,  dear  mind.  Oh,  Ariadne,  Connie  was  simply 
lovely  to  me  at  dinner."  She  smiled  down  coquet- 


288  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

tishly,  touching  her  violets.  "And  you  know  how  fas- 
cinating he  can  be.  Never  mind,  dear,  some  day  just 
the  right  man  —  the  sort  of  man  that  Connie  and  I  can 
approve  —  will  come  along.  Then  you  will  know  what 
it  means  to  a  woman  to  yield  up  her  whole  nature  to  the 
man  of  her  choice.  Love  is  the  best  thing  in  the  world, 
as  Byron  said."  Tossing  her  head,  she  went  out  of  the 
door,  archly  smiling,  all  glittering  spangles  and  violet 
perfume. 

In  the  hall  she  turned  back.  "No,  it  wasn't  Byron, 
it  was  Browning.  But  both  their  names  begin  with 
a'B.'" 

As  she  disappeared,  Ariadne  sank  down  into  the  chair. 
It  was  enough  that  tragedy  should  threaten  without 
the  glare  of  sardonic  humor  playing  over  it. 

"What  will  the  end  be?"  she  thought  wearily.  If 
Randolph  persisted  in  his  demand  that  she  should  leave 
the  Martels,  if  she  were  still  bound  by  her  pledge  to 
Donna,  it  might  be  even  separation  —  a  breach  that 
could  never  be  healed. 

"Oh,  he  couldn't  give  me  up,  he  couldn't  give  me  up. 
He  knows  how  I  love  him.  To-morrow,  when  he  has 
had  time  to  think  things  over,  he  will  trust  me.  He  will 
not  let  me  go  out  of  his  life,  even  though  for  a  little 
while  I  must  seem  to  oppose  his  wishes." 

She  rocked  herself  to  and  fro.  Poor  Donna,  who  had 
said  that  some  day  her  stepdaughter,  too,  might  know 
the  glory  of  self-surrender.  It  seemed  strange  to  her, 
almost  repellent,  that  a  broken,  aging  woman  could 
still  place  herself  among  those  who  love.  Surely  that 
was  for  the  young,  for  those  whose  eyes  were  clear,  whose 
hearts  could  leap  and  tremble  at  a  spoken  name.  Yet  if 
lore  meant  sacrifice,  idolatry,  and  blindness  to  all  evil 
in  the  creature  adored,  the  woman  had  given  and  was 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  289 

still  giving  the  very  essence  of  her  being  to  her  sinister 
god.  And  for  what  reward?  Brutal  indifference  and 
ill-concealed  scorn !  But  Donna  would  not  see.  Even 
now,  in  her  rejoicing  at  his  kindness,  she  could  overlook 
the  fact,  so  obvious  to  Ariadne,  that  the  man  feared  to 
lose  not  his  benefactress,  but  her  unstinted  bounty. 

Ariadne  dared  not  ask  herself  what  stand  the  infatu- 
ated woman  would  take  if  she  were  told  of  Martel's  first 
marriage  and  the  situation  that  now  devolved.  If  the 
man  commanded  her  to  remain  with  him,  defying  both 
law  and  convention,  the  woman  would  indubitably  obey. 

"I  must  not  think  of  these  things  any  longer,"  re- 
flected the  girl;  "I  must  sleep.  To-morrow  Randolph 
and  I  can  talk  it  over  quietly.  As  long  as  I  have  him 
and  he  loves  me,  nothing  else  matters." 

Randolph  was  waiting  for  her  under  the  chestnut  trees. 
She  could  see  him  pacing  slowly  back  and  forth,  his  head 
bent  forward.  He  wore  the  tan  tweed  hat  and  the 
loosely  fitting  coat  that  swung  in  such  gallant  folds  from 
his  lean,  broad  shoulders. 

While  dressing,  that  morning,  Ariadne  had  carefully 
selected  the  same  gray  costume  she  had  worn  at  their 
first  meeting  by  the  Vyver.  Such  trifles  are  significant 
to  young  lovers.  She  knew  that  he  would  recognize 
the  meaning  of  her  choice. 

As  the  young  man  caught  sight  of  her,  he  flung  his 
cigarette  in  the  water,  much  to  the  disgust  of  the  greedy 
ducks,  lifted  his  hat,  and  smiled.  It  was  not  the  boyish 
greeting  that  she  loved.  Like  the  ducks,  she  felt  just  a 
little  defrauded.  His  first  words  were  commonplace. 

"I  hope  you  had  a  good  night,  dear." 

"Yes,  after  I  once  got  to  sleep." 

He  saw  the  letter  in  her  hand.  "Another  from 
Grandma?"  he  asked. 


2QO  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"No.  It  seems  strange  to  be  my  own  postman,  but," 
she  flushed  and  smiled,  "it's  a  long,  long  one  to  you  — 
written  in  installments  while  you  were  away.  You 
remember  you  asked  me  to  write  and  then  save  it  till 
you  returned  ?  " 

"I  should  say  so.     It  was  good  of  you  to  bring  it." 
He  held  out  his  hand,  but  in  giving  it,  she  entreated : 
"Don't  read  it  now,  please.    Wait  until  I  go.     It's  — 
it's  —  my  first  love-letter.     I   would   be   terribly   em- 
barrassed." 

"  Your  will  is  law,"  he  answered  gallantly,  and  before 
placing  it  in  his  pocket,  he  kissed  the  superscription. 
After  this  a  silence  which  both  felt  to  be  a  little  awkward 
fell  upon  them. 

"  No  sunshine  to-day,"  observed  Randolph,  looking 
up  through  the  trees  at  a  gray  sky  overhead. 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  sighed  Ariadne.  "Doesn't  the  old 
stork  look  miserable  on  that  one  long  leg  of  his  among 
the  yellow  flag  lilies  ?" 

Randolph  surveyed  him.  "How  silly  to  be  stuck  up 
on  top  of  one  leg  like  that  —  especially  such  a  thin,  un- 
certain sort  of  a  support." 

"MylittleVermeer  milkmaid  over  therein  the  Mauri ts- 
haus  will  be  shining  in  this  dull  light  like  a  jewel  in  an 
open  case.  I  must  see  her  once  more  before  I  leave  the 
Hague,  but  I  suppose  the  Mauritshaus  would  scarcely 
be  open  so  early." 

Both  were  talking  for  time,  and  each  knew  it.  There 
was  a  latent  fear  of  touching  upon  personal  realities. 
Ariadne  unwittingly  had  sounded  the  first  note  when 
she  spoke  of  leaving. 

They  stood  exactly  on  the  spot  where  only  a  few  days 
earlier  Randolph  had  found  her.  In  the  brief  interval 
all  the  waves  of  life  seemed  to  have  broken  against  them 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  291 

and  were  still  surging  tempestuously.  Their  one  hold 
in  the  stormy  sea  was  love.  To  this  the  girl  clung  des- 
perately. If  Randy  struck  down  her  hands  from  that 
dear  refuge,  it  made  no  difference  afterward  where  the 
black  tide  bore  her. 

"Let  us  sit  down,"  he  said  abruptly;  "we  must  talk 
about  it.  There  is  no  use  shirking." 

They  walked  across  to  the  same  bench  where  the  two 
had  sat  gossiping  so  gayly  that  first  morning.  Randolph, 
taking  off  his  hat,  threw  it  on  to  the  seat  beside  him. 
He  ran  his  brown  fingers  through  browner  hair.  Ariadne 
looked  up,  taking  in  consciously  all  the  charm  and  dark 
beauty  of  his  face.  She  loved  the  bold,  fine  line  from 
ear  to  chin  and  the  mouth  which  might  have  been  stern 
but  for  those  deep  nicks  at  the  corner  —  where  a  boyish 
joy  of  life  seemed  caught.  Above  all  things  she  loved 
that  sudden  smile,  and  the  way  his  brow  flashed  white 
against  the  bronze  tints  of  his  face.  There  was  no  smile 
now.  He  was  staring  out  across  the  clear  stretch  of 
water,  his  brows  drawn  heavily. 

"I've  had  my  cable  from  Judge  Henry,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  is  he  coming?" 

"Yes,  almost  at  once,  I  believe." 

"Will  he  go  to  London  first?" 

"Yes.  His  official  address  will  be  Brown,  Shipley, 
and  Company.  Here,  let  me  write  it  down  for  you.  I 
don't  know  yet  the  name  of  his  London  Hotel." 

He  wrote  on  a  card  of  his  own,  and  Ariadne  slipped  it 
into  her  glove. 

"Of  course,  if  you  are  to  do  as  I  wish  —  as  I  hope  you 
will,  Ariadne  —  you  won't  need  to  bother  about  their 
address  or  anything  else.  Probably  we'll  run  down  to- 
gether to  meet  their  steamer." 

"Oh,  if  we  only  could,"  said  the  girl.     "It  makes  me 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

shiver  with  delight  just  to  think  of  seeing  one  of  my  own 
people  again.  And  I  love  Judge  Henry ;  he  was  father's 
very  best  friend." 

"He  is  yours,  too,  Ariadne.  They  all  love  you  —  and 
will  thank  me  for  forcing  you  to  leave  these  people." 

She  said  nothing.  Her  eyes  went  down  to  the  gray- 
gloved  hands  clasped  in  her  lap. 

"Have  you  decided  to  go  to-night,  as  I  wish, 
Ariadne  ?  " 

"They  —  Madonna  —  have  engaged  passage  from 
the  Hook." 

"That  goes  to  Harwich,"  said  the  man.  "Then  I 
had  better  take  you  down  to  Flushing.  It  is  only  four 
hours  from  here.  We  can  start  by  the  three-thirty 
train." 

She  made  no  reply.  He  looked  at  her.  He  had  hoped 
against  further  opposition,  but  since  it  was  to  be  met,  he 
was  telling  himself  there  must  be  no  vehemence,  no  ex- 
citement. They  could  not  have  a  scene  beside  the  Vyver. 
To  the  people  who  passed  and  glanced  at  them,  they 
appeared  a  couple  of  unusually  well-favored  young  for- 
eigners —  lovers  it  might  be  —  who  had  come  out  for 
a  morning  walk  and  were  now  resting. 

"Must  we  have  that  whole  discussion  over  again, 
dearest?"  he  asked  rather  sadly. 

"No,  Randolph.  There  is  nothing  to  discuss.  I  have 
thought  over  everything.  I  can  see  how  it  looks  to  you, 
but  for  this  once  you  must  trust  me.  You  must  believe 
me  when  I  tell  you  that,  much  as  I  long  to  be  with  you, 
to  follow  you  from  this  minute  and  never  think  of  those 
others  in  my  life  again,  to-night  I  must  go  with  Donna." 

"And  you  refuse  to  give  me  any  further  explanation  ?" 

"I  can't,  Randolph.  I'm  not  at  liberty  to  do  it.  But 
I  think  I  can  say  this  much  without  breaking  my  word. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  293 

My  stepmother  is  going  to  London  to  consult  a 
specialist." 

"That's  nothing.  Those  lazy,  over-fed  women  are 
always  seeing  specialists." 

"I  have  promised  to  stay  with  her  until  she  sees  her 
doctor." 

Again  Randolph  ran  the  long  fingers  through  his  hair. 
His  next  question  was  something  of  a  surprise.  "What 
did  Martel  say  to  her  about  the  other  night  ?  " 

"That  he  took  me  off  alone,  as  I  would  then  have  to 
listen  to  him  while  he  warned  me  against  you." 

"Does  she  know  that  the  chauffeur  was  his  valet?" 

"She  doesn't  dream  it.  No  one  knows  except  the  old 
portier  and  ourselves." 

"Of  course  she  believes  everything  the  brute  tells 
her." 

"Absolutely.  She  has  no  will,  no  mind  of  her  own, 
where  he  is  concerned.  In  all  these  years  I  have  never 
seen  her  get  her  own  way  but  once,  and  it  is  this  time 
about  the  trip  to  London." 

"She  has  worked  the  specialist  dodge  on  him,  too ?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  you  hear  her,  or  did  she  only  tell  you?" 

"She  told  me." 

"Ariadne,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  It's  merely  a 
trumped-up  scheme  to  steal  you  away  from  me.  They 
may  cross  the  Channel,  but  they  will  never  get  to  London. 
You  will  be  carried  off  to  Norway,  to  Iceland,  or  some 
other  spot  where  I  cannot  find  you.  Can't  you  see  that 
they  are  afraid  I  shall  persuade  you  to  marry  me,  which 
means  that  your  stepmother  will  lose  the  money?" 

"It  is  true  about  this  going  to  London,  Randolph. 
You  must  believe  me  this  time.  It  is  true." 

"Even  so,  that  doesn't  particularly  interest  me,"  he 


294  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

said.  "The  one  point  that  I  hold  to,  and  that  I  must 
hold  to,  Ariadne,  is  that  I  shall  not  allow  the  woman  I 
love  to  remain  near  the  devil  incarnate  who  menaced 
her.  Why,  good  God,  child,  that  beast  himself,  low  as 
he  is,  would  have  a  right  to  despise  me  if  I  allowed  it. 
Last  night  was  a  torture  to  me  merely  to  know  that 
you  were  in  the  same  house  with  him.  I  won't  stand  it 
again  —  and  you  might  as  well  realize  it.  Either  you 
come  to  Flushing  with  me  by  the  three-thirty  train, 
or—" 

She  put  out  her  hand  quickly.  "Don't  say  it,  dear; 
don't  force  a  thing  which  may  make  us  lose  each  other." 

"Oh,  my  darling,"  he  groaned,  "you  are  leaving  me  no 
other  choice.  I  love  you ;  you  can't  doubt  that.  There 
will  never  be  another  girl  on  earth  for  me,  if  you  throw 
me  over  now.  But  there  are  some  things  that  I  cannot 
do,  even  for  you,  and  this  is  one  of  them." 

"Then  if  I  go  to-night  with  Madonna,  you  will  never 
care  to  see  me  again  ?  " 

"I'll  care  —  yes,  I'll  care  to.  Good  God,  my  days 
and  nights  will  be  one  long  agony  to  see  you,  but  — 

He  paused.  She  was  staring  out  across  the  water, 
her  face  a  white  lantern  in  which  the  light  had  died. 

"  Go  on  —  I'd  rather  hear  it  all." 

"The  woman  I  want  for  my  wife  must  not  let  anything 
—  any  promise,  any  exaggerated  sense  of  duty  — =  weigh 
against  the  horror  of  remaining  in  such  a  man's  presence. 
She  must  go  —  not  only  because  her  lover  asks  it  —  but 
because  all  that  he  thought  fine,  and  sweet,  and  worthy 
in  her,  would  demand  it.  As  you  said  once  about  marry- 
ing a  man  who  would  be  willing  to  join  such  a  menage 
as  yours :  you  would  despise  him  because  he  could  so 
lower  himself,  even  for  the  sake  of  gaining  you.  My 
feeling  in  this  case  is  exactly  the  same.  Oh,  Ariadne,  it 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  295 

kills  me  to  be  saying  such  a  thing  to  you,  but  it  is  the 
deepest  part  of  me  that  speaks.  I  couldn't  marry  a 
woman  who  is  willing  to  stay  near  the  monster  who  so 
nearly  destroyed  her." 

Ariadne  gave  a  little  sigh.  The  clasped  hands  were 
again  on  her  lap.  When  at  last  she  spoke,  her  voice  was 
low  and  unshaken. 

"Yes,  now  I  see  it  all.  It  wasn't  clear  before.  You 
are  right,  dear.  You  could  not  marry  such  a  woman." 

"Then  it  is  to  be  good-by?" 

"I  can't  see  any  other  way." 

The  old  stork  slowly  unfolded  the  angles  of  the  other 
leg,  shook  away  the  stiffness,  and  began  a  stately  progress 
through  the  yellow  iris.  A  half-tamed  sparrow  perched 
at  the  back  of  the  bench  and  twittered  in  hope  of  bene- 
fice. The  two  human  things  neither  saw  nor  heard. 
They  sat  in  a  close-drawn  tent,  ignorant  of  an  outer 
world. 

Ariadne  scarcely  knew  the  moment  when  her  com- 
panion left  her.  She  sat  on  alone. 

Finally  she  rose  and  went  close  to  the  water. 

"Good-by,  dear  Vyver,"  she  whispered.  "Good-by 
-  dear  little  wide-eyed  girl  over  there  at  the  Mauri  ts- 
haus,  and  good-by  —  good-by  forever  to  my  one,  one 
happiness." 

Then  she  turned  and  went  back  to  the  hotel. 


BOOK   THREE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  fashionable  West  End  of  London  is  not  early  to 
rise,  a  fact  to  be  regretted,  at  least  on  a  clear  June 
morning.  The  sun  had  long  since  spurned  the  forest 
of  crooked  chimney-pots  across  the  Thames,  and  now 
lifted  its  golden  bowl  to  pour  its  glory  into  pleasanter 
channels  —  to  flood  the  courtyards  and  green,  open 
spaces  of  the  rich,  and  brim  with  an  aerial  tide  of  light 
the  broad,  magnificent  thoroughfare  of  Piccadilly. 

It  was  not  quite  ten  o'clock.  Many  of  the  shops  still 
showed  their  green  shutters.  Doorsteps  were  being 
hearthstoned  and  brass  signs  polished.  In  fact,  Picca- 
dilly was  at  its  morning  toilet,  an  indelicacy  which 
would  have  counted  for  little,  had  all  pedestrians  been 
as  unobservant  as  a  certain  small,  foreign-looking  person 
who  was  walking  toward  Mayfair,  carrying  in  his  hand 
several  unopened  letters.  He  shuffled  these  as  a  poker 
player  does  cards  —  going  back  always  with  deepest 
interest  to  one  in  a  square  blue  envelope,  directed  hi  a 
bold,  ignorant,  yet  very  feminine  hand.  This  he  turned 
over  many  times,  holding  it  up  to  the  light,  and  examin- 
ing with  minute  care  the  red  penny  stamp  and  the 
London  postmark  of  two  days  before. 

Suddenly  he  pulled  himself  together  with  a  jerk  "and 
looked  around.  He  was  directly  in  front  of  the  hotel. 
He  slipped  the  blue  letter  into  an  inner  pocket,  and  with 
the  others  in  his  hand,  went  in,  pushed  the  lift  button, 
and  hurried  to  his  employer's  room.  Mr.  Martel  was 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  297 

still  in  bed.  Francois  gave  him  the  other  letters,  and 
then  went  over  to  a  window  and  drew  the  shade. 

"  Another  fine  morning,  sir,"  he  remarked. 

His  master  did  not  answer.     He  was  sorting  the  post. 

"Here  are  two  letters  for  Mrs.  Martel;  you'd  better 
take  them  to  her." 

Frangois  took  them  but  remained  near  the  bed. 
His  hand  went  to  an  inner  pocket. 

"There's  another,  sir.  I  put  it  in  here  in  case  Mrs. 
Martel  might  be  with  you.  I'm  afraid  you  won't  like 
this  one." 

Martel  sprang  to  a  sitting  posture.  "  Has  that  woman 
traced  me  here  already?" 

"It  looks  so,  sir.     It's  a  London  postmark." 

Martel  snatched  at  the  letter,  tearing  it  open.  The 
servant's  eyes  never  left  his  face. 

The  man  sank  back  with  a  groan.  "Good  God  !"  he 
muttered. 

Francois'  sallow  face  took  on  an  expression  of  anxiety. 
"Anything  I  can  do,  sir?" 

"Take  these  letters  to  Mrs.  Martel.  Find  out  if 
she's  up  yet.  Then  come  back." 

As  Franc. ois  vanished,  Martel  read  more  carefully : 

"  I've  got  your  number  again.  When  are  you  coming 
across  with  the  wad  ?  I  need  it  and  I'm  going  to  have 
it.  To-morrow,  when  you  get  this,  send  me  word  to 
the  above  address,  and  do  it  quick.  You  needn't  try 
to  dodge  me  no  more.  I've  got  the  lead  on  you,  and 
I  want  that  money. 

"  If  you  haven't  got  the  sense  to  know  when  you're 
beaten  I'll  be  dropping  in  at  your  hotel,  just  to  give 
you  a  few  lessons. 

"  Your  loving  wife, 

"  BLANCHE  PATREDIS." 


298  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Frangois  was  swift,  but  even  before  his  return,  his 
master  was  on  his  feet. 

"Here,"  he  said,  " throw  out  my  things  on  the  bed 
—  and  then  take  this  letter.  Hire  a  taxi  and  go  to  this 
address.  Tell  that  she-devil  the  money  is  coming. 
Make  her  believe  it,  for  it's  true.  She  mustn't  come 
to  this  hotel.  Good  God  I  She's  up  to  it.  No,  I 
won't  stop  for  a  bath.  I  had  better  dress  and  go  down- 
stairs. I'll  wait  in  the  main  lounge  till  you  get  back. 
Tell  her  that  if  she  makes  a  row  now,  everything  will  go 
to  pieces.  Say  that  I'll  come  to  her  in  person,  later  on." 

"I  understand,  sir." 

When  the  man  had  gone,  Constantine  Martel  dressed 
with  feverish  haste.  There  was  no  other  guest  in  the 
lounge.  He  walked  up  and  down,  smoking.  The  pause 
of  every  taxicab  outside  brought  apprehension.  Be- 
tween his  teeth  he  cursed  this  woman  who  now  menaced 
him.  Here  was  no  feeble,  adoring  creature  ready  to 
give  up  her  very  existence  to  his  pleasure,  but  a  bold 
and  predatory  foe,  unscrupulous,  and  far  more  powerful 
than  himself. 

He  wondered  whether  she  had  changed  much  in  the 
seven  years  since  their  parting.  She  was  well  over 
thirty  by  this  time,  and  with  the  sort  of  life  she  must 
have  led  would  probably  have  grown  coarse  as  well  as 
prematurely  old. 

He  glanced  at  the  clock.  Francois  could  not  return 
for  a  full  half-hour  yet,  even  if  he  had  been  able  to  see 
her  at  once.  Scowling,  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair 
near  the  entrance  and  rang  for  coffee.  As  he  drank  it, 
feeling  the  resultant  stimulus,  his  clearer  vision  brought 
only  added  apprehension.  Her  letter  had  been  written 
two  days  before.  Blanche  had  given  him  one  full  day 
to  reply,  but  unless  she  had  fundamentally  changed,  her 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  299 

impatience  would  not  extend  many  hours  longer.  It 
had  been  a  trick  of  the  evil  one  which  had  prevented 
his  sending  to  Brown,  Shipley  the  day  before.  She 
would  surely  come  to  the  hotel.  There  was  the  one 
chance  that  Francois  might  reach  her  lodgings  before 
she  had  left  them. 

The  tall,  superb  figure  of  a  woman  filled  the  doorway. 
He  did  not  feel  any  special  excitement.  Somehow  he 
had  known,  all  along,  that  she  would  come. 

Martel  rose,  with  no  great  haste,  and  went  toward 
her. 

"Mrs.  Patredis,"  he  said  in  a  conventional  tone. 
He  had  not  seen  her  face  yet  because  of  the  light  behind 
her,  but  he  did  not  need  to  see  it. 

"Exactly  —  Mrs.  Patredis,"  she  replied  as  casually. 
"You  must  have  known  what  would  happen  when  you 
didn't  answer." 

"I  only  received  your  letter  a  few  moments  ago  — 
and  have  already  sent  my  valet  to  your  lodgings." 

"My,  but  ain't  we  swell,"  she  remarked,  with  a  low 
laugh.  "It  pays  to  marry  a  rickety  old  Jane  with 
money,  don't  it?" 

Martel  threw  a  nervous  glance  around. 

"Please  be  careful.  There's  a  small  sitting-room  on 
the  next  floor  where  we  can  talk  quietly.  Kindly  come 
with  me." 

"I  trust  I  ain't  being  led  into  your  wife's  boudoir," 
said  the  woman  flippantly. 

He  walked  toward  a  curving  stairway,  she  a  little  in 
the  rear.  At  the  foot  he  paused,  motioning  her  to  go 
first.  As  she  put  her  high-heeled  slipper  on  the  first 
step,  she  turned  a  little,  looking  toward  him  with  such 
open  amusement,  such  good-natured  contempt,  that  he 
felt  the  dark  blood  rush  to  his  cheeks. 


300  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Handsomer  than  ever,  and  dolled  up  to  beat  the 
band,"  she  remarked  as  if  to  herself,  as  she  mounted  the 
velvet-covered  staircase. 

He  threw  open  the  door  of  a  sitting-room,  and  when 
she  had  entered,  after  an  instant  of  hesitation,  closed 
the  door  behind  him. 

Mrs.  Patredis  advanced  with  slow  self-possession. 
She  looked  around  the  room,  found  a  mirror  above  the 
broad  mantelshelf  and  went  up  to  it,  lifted  her  veil, 
and  laid  it  along  the  wide  brim  of  her  hat.  Each  motion 
was  instinct,  with  a  sort  of  slow,  deliberate  grace.  She 
smiled  at  her  own  image. 

"I  don't  think  I've  changed  much  either,"  she  said 
complacently.  "I've  found  that  good  looks  pay." 

The  man  kept  his  eyes  from  her.  The  surge  of  fury 
that  had  swept  over  him  as  he  read  her  letter  was  battling 
now,  in  her  presence,  against  a  stronger  passion  of  fear. 
She  was  so  overwhelmingly  at  ease,  so  certain  of  control, 
not  only  over  herself  but  over  him,  that  the  words  he 
longed  to  say  failed  him.  Had  the  power  been  his, 
he  would  have  delighted  in  a  gradual  approach  to  the 
issue,  in  softly  spoken  insults  and  unexpected,  rapier 
thrusts  of  speech.  The  woman's  methods  were  of 
another  sort. 

"Now,  look  here,  Mr.  Patredis,"  she  began  in  a 
businesslike  voice,  "I'm  sick  and  tired  of  all  your  lies 
and  hiding.  I've  got  you  where  the  wool's  short,  and 
you  know  it.  When  is  the  rest  of  that  money  to  be 
paid?" 

"You've  had  seven  thousand  within  three  weeks," 
he  said  fiercely,  turning  to  her.  "Why  must  you  have 
the  rest  in  such  a  hurry?" 

"That's  my  business.  I  want  it.  Getting  it  is 
yours." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  301 

"I  told  you  that  I  had  scraped  together  every  bit  of 
cash  I  could.  You  know  I've  nothing  of  my  own.  I 
have  to  get  it  from  —  from  - 

She  gave  a  comprehending  gesture.  "Oh,  I  know 
where  you  get  it  from,  all  right.  But  the  old  girl  is 
as  rich  as  the  inside  of  a  dog." 

"She  has  no  control  over  her  capital.  We  live  on 
the  income,  and  since  the  drain  of  your  damned  black- 
mailing began,  we  are  often  hard  put  to  it.  Curse  you  !  " 
he  cried,  the  accession  of  anger  giving  him  a  momentary 
courage.  "  That  was  a  low  deal  to  tamper  with  a  divorce 
that  you  wanted  as  much  as  I  —  and  then  start  a  pack 
of  lawyers  hounding  an  innocent  woman  through  me. 
I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  of  you,  Blanche." 

As  he  spoke,  the  woman's  face  had  changed.  She 
bent  forward  in  her  chair  a  little,  her  dark  brows  coming 
together  in  a  frown. 

"Yes,  it  has  been  pretty  low  down;  I  ain't  proud  of 
the  deed,  my  boy.  But  just  at  the  time  I  was  put  to  it, 
as  you  say,  on  my  own  hook.  Canning  —  "  she  paused. 

"So  he  didn't  marry  you,  after  all ?" 

"No,  he  didn't,"  she  flashed  out  fiercely,  "and  I 
don't  want  any  of  those  sarcastic  remarks  of  yours  about 
it.  I  hate  the  sniveling  cur,  and  I'm  going  to  get  even 
with  him  yet.  That's  part  of  my  scheme,  and  it's  one 
of  the  big  reasons  I  want  this  money  from  you  in  a 
chunk." 

"I'm  doing  what  I  can,  Blanche.  You'll  have  to  be 
patient  for  a  few  days  yet." 

Martel  seated  himself  in  a  chair  opposite.  The  anger 
had  already  died.  He  watched  her  face  almost  timidly. 
She  was  evidently  thinking  hard. 

"Your  lawyers  gave  me  that  same  song  and  dance 
about  the  income,"  she  said,  after  a  pause.  "Why  on 


302  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

earth  didn't  you  have  the  old  woman  make  a  settlement 
on  you  before  you  married  her?" 

"I  did  try  it,  but  her  affairs  were  in  the  hands  of  a 
trustee.  I  thought  I  could  do  anything  with  her  after- 
ward." 

"It's  a  queer  thing  about  you  crooks,"  said  the  other 
musingly.  "  There's  nothing  you'd  stop  at.  You  have  a 
million  suspicions  about  things  that  don't  matter,  and 
you  always  are  blind  as  bats  about  some  one  big  fact 
that  props  up  all  the  rest.  It  was  that  way  with  our 
divorce.  I  knew  at  the  time  there  was  a  hole  in  it  big 
enough  for  a  camel  to  jump  through.  But  you  were  so 
mad  to  get  your  hands  on  your  share  of  the  ranch-money 
that  you  couldn't  see  anything  else.  Now,  even  with  a 
rickety  old  Jane  like  this,  you're  in  the  same  sort  of 
mess.  You  need  somebody  to  look  after  you,  Pat." 

"Oh,  don't  call  me  Pat.  I  can't  stand  it,"  he  broke 
out. 

She  smiled.  "So  Jane  calls  you  Connie.  I'm  wise. 
Does  the  old  girl  know  anything  about  this?" 

"Good  Lord!  No.  She  thinks  I  need  the  money 
because  of  unfortunate  speculations." 

"That's  as  good  a  name  as  any.  But  the  hour  for 
Madame  to  know  a  few  real  facts  is  about  to  strike." 

"You  can't  do  it,  Blanche.  If  you  sprung  a  thing 
like  this  on  her,  it  would  be  the  end  of  everything  for  us 
both.  You  don't  want  to  kill  the  goose  that  lays  the 
golden  eggs." 

"No,  but  I'd  like  to  argue  a  few  with  the  goose,  so 
that  she'd  lay  an  egg  or  two  in  my  back-yard,"  laughed 
the  woman. 

"I'll  swear  you  shall  have  the  money,  Blanche.  It 
wouldn't  hurt  you,  for  old  time's  sake,  to  come  down 
in  your  price  a  little.  Maybe  I  can  help  you  get  back 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  303 

at  Canning.  I'd  like  to.  But  I'll  pay  you  every  dollar, 
if  you'll  just  give  me  time." 

The  woman  regarded  him  intently.  There  was  no 
antagonism  in  her  face.  When  she  next  spoke,  it  was 
almost  as  to  a  fellow  worker. 

"But  might  it  not  be  the  best  thing  all  around  to  let 
me  see  Mrs.  Martel"  —she  smiled  over  the  name  — 
"and  make  her  get  a  move  on  the  egg  factory  ?" 

"It  is  the  last  thing  to  do.  We  are  in  London  now 
so  that  she  can  see  a  heart  specialist.  I  assure  you  that 
such  a  scene  might  be  her  death." 

The  woman's  eyes  narrowed.  "Well,  and  what  of 
it?  Don't  you  get  the  dough?" 

At  this  the  man  groaned  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands. 

"No,  this  is  another  trick  the  devil  has  played  me.  I 
only  found  out  a  week  ago  that  on  her  death  every  penny 
goes  to  the  girl." 

Mrs.  Patredis  sat  upright,  staring  at  him,  her  eyes 
as  round  as  a  startled  child's. 

"What?  That  Skipwith  girl  who  trails  around  after 
you?" 

He  nodded.  His  whole  bent  figure  expressed  humilia- 
tion and  despair. 

"Well,  of  all  damn  fools-  '  began  the  woman,  and 
then  broke  off  for  want  of  words. 

Martel  sprang  to  his  feet  and  began  pacing  the  small 
room.  "Now  you  see  just  the  trap  I'm  in.  For  seven 
years  I've  been  the  laughing  stock  of  hotel  clerks  and 
the  butt  of  other  women  that  we  picked  up  from  time 
to  time.  The  relatives  and  trustees  of  her  first  husband 
abhor  me  and  begrudge  every  cent  they  pay  over. 
She's  had  to  keep  the  stepdaughter  with  us.  I've  stood 
it  all,  thinking  that  it  could  not  last  forever  —  and  now 


304  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

in  one  crash,  not  only  are  you  hounding  me,  but  I  find 
I  have  to  play  the  lap-dog  and  young  lover  in  one,  to 
keep  the  woman  alive.  Even  you,  Blanche,  might 
pity  a  man  in  such  a  hole.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  in  that 
San  Francisco  earthquake  again  —  pinned  down  under 
rafters,  and  that  you  were  there  setting  fire  to  them." 

"I  wouldn't  say  much  about  that  earthquake  if  I 
was  you,"  remarked  the  other  meaningly.  "But  never 
mind,  old  boy,  I  don't  want  to  stick  it  to  you  any  worse 
than  I  have  to.  I'm  trying  to  think  out  something. 
Stop  that  cake-walk  and  sit  still.  You  get  on  my 
nerves." 

Martel  took  the  chair  obediently,  his  miserable  eyes 
on  her  face. 

"Look  here,"  she  said  at  length,  looking  at  him 
squarely,  "how  old  is  the  girl?" 

"Somewhere  about  twenty-two  or  twenty-three." 

"Is  she  a  looker?" 

"Some  might  think  so.  She's  too  slim  and  —  er  — 
bloodless  for  my  taste." 

"I  never  knew  the  shape  to  make  any  difference  if 
you  wanted  something,"  she  said  bluntly.  Her  eyes 
were  still  narrowed. 

With  a  fierce  exclamation  the  man  struck  the  chair- 
arm  with  his  fist,  then  sprang  upright.  "Leave  her  out," 
he  cried.  "There's  absolutely  nothing  to  be  gained  by 
discussing  her.  She  hates  the  sight  of  me." 

Mrs.  Patredis  sat  back  in  her  chair.  Her  entire  ex- 
pression changed.  The  look  of  amusement  and  good- 
natured  contempt  returned.  "And  him  so  pretty  and 
smells  so  sweet,"  she  murmured. 

He  came  up  to  her,  holding  out  his  hands.  "Blanche, 
please  go  now.  That's  a  good  girl.  I'm  not  going  to 
try  to  give  you  the  slip  again,  I  swear  it  — " 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  305 

"Cut  out  the  swear,"  she  interrupted,  with  a  little 
gesture.  "I  always  know  when  you  are  lying." 

"I  may  be  summoned  to  my  wife's  room  at  any 
moment.  She  has  already  written  to  New  York  for  the 
money,  and  an  answer  may  be  here  to-day.  I'll  call  on 
you  at  your  own  lodgings  as  often  as  you  wish.  In  fact 
I'd  like  it ;  there's  something  real  about  you,  Blanche." 

She,  too,  was  on  her  feet.  "Oh,  I'm  real  enough," 
she  laughed.  "A  little  more  of  me,  that's  all.  Come 
to  me  to-morrow  about  this  time." 

"  You're  a  splendid  looking  woman,  and  you  know  it," 
said  the  man  ingratiatingly. 

She  had  gone  to  the  mirror,  and  both  shapely  arms 
were  raised  to  readjust  the  veil.  At  Martel's  words, 
she  turned  a  little,  put  out  her  left  hand,  and  drew  him 
closer.  The  two  dark,  glowing  faces  were  nearly  on  a 
level.  She  threw  him  an  indescribable  look.  "Not  a 
bad-looking  couple  yet,"  she  murmured,  dropping  her 
veil. 

Then,  without  further  words,  she  left  the  room. 

Ariadne  had  dressed  rather  early,  and  after  break- 
fasting, had  knocked  softly  on  Mrs.  Martel's  door. 

The  stepmother  was  up,  seated  before  her  dressing- 
table,  while  Cummins  waved  the  faded  hair  back  to  its 
usual  elaborate  arrangement.  "Come  in,"  she  said 
brightly. 

As  the  girl  entered,  Donna  smiled  at  her  in  the  mirror. 
"Oh,  I  thought  it  might  be  Connie.  Aren't  you  sur- 
prised to  see  me  so  smart,  Ariadne?  I'm  feeling  so 
much  better,  and  it's  such  a  heavenly  morning,  that  I 
thought  it  would  be  nice  to  take  a  drive  before  luncheon. 
I  haven't  asked  Connie  yet.  Cummins  went  to  his  door, 
but  he  had  already  gone  out.  It  seems  to  me  that  old 
London  is  cheering  us  all  up." 


306  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Ariadne  crossed  to  the  window.  "It's  a  lovely  day," 
she  remarked. 

"That's  all  right,  Cummins,"  said  Mrs.  Martel. 
"Go  and  get  your  breakfast  now.  I  want  to  have  a 
little  talk  with  Miss  Skipwith  before  Mr.  Martel  comes 
in.  I  declare,  Ariadne,"  she  began,  even  before  Cum- 
mins was  out  of  the  door,  "I'm  so  much  more  myself, 
so  much  lighter  in  mind  and  body,  too,  that  I  don't 
believe  there's  going  to  be  any  need  of  a  specialist.  Look 
here,"  she  rose,  pressing  her  side,  and  turning  her  body 
freely.  "Cummins  had  to  phi  over  my  dress  last  night, 
it  has  grown  so  large  for  me." 

"You  do  look  ever  so  much  better,"  the  girl  replied. 
"Maybe  Doctor  Bergen  was  mistaken,  after  all." 

"There's  not  a  doubt  of  it.  Why,  I  feel  ten  years 
younger,  and  I  believe  I  look  it  too."  She  simpered 
at  herself  in  the  glass.  "Of  course  it's  chiefly  Connie's 
doing.  He  is  so  adorable,  so  thoughtful.  There's  not 
a  moment  that  he  isn't  thinking  of  ways  to  make  me 
happy.  Why,  the  other  day,  in  Old  Bond  Street,  we 
were  looking  in  one  of  those  Oriental  jewelry  windows, 
and  I  happened  to  say  that  I  liked  a  silver  pendant  set 
with  lapis  lazuli.  He  took  me  by  the  arm  and  made 
me  go  into  the  shop  that  minute.  The  chain  was  a 
little  too  long,  so  he  ordered  it  to  be  shortened.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  had  gone  there  now  to  get 
it." 

Ariadne  found  nothing  to  say. 

"I  believe  I'd  be  perfectly  happy,  with  nothing  on 
earth  left  to  wish  for,  if  only  that  old  Judge  Henry  would 
let  me  have  the  money  Connie  needs,"  added  Mrs. 
Martel. 

"I  didn't  tell  you  before,  Donna,  I've  seen  so  little  of 
you  since  we  reached  England  —  but  Judge  Henry  is 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  307 

coming  over  in  person  and  may  arrive  almost  any 
day." 

Mrs.  Mattel's  hands  fell  to  her  sides.  She  stared  at 
her  stepdaughter,  and  a  querulous  look  fleeted  across 
her  face.  "Why  on  earth  haven't  you  told  me  this 
sooner?"  she  began,  and  then,  with  another  sudden 
change,  the  radiance  returned. 

"Never  mind,  I  won't  scold.  It's  such  good  news. 
Of  course  he's  coming  in  answer  to  my  letter.  It  was 
a  very  strong,  direct  letter.  By  the  way,  Ariadne, 
what  has  become  of  Randolph  Carr?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  the  girl  in  a  constrained  voice. 

"I  knew  you  would  soon  find  out  how  little  there  was 
in  that  man,"  commented  her  stepmother.  "Connie 
is  a  wonderful  judge  of  character,  and  he  took  an  intense 
dislike  to  him  from  the  first." 

Ariadne  leaned  wearily  against  the  window-frame. 
A  little  flower-cart  was  being  pushed  along  the  street 
below.  There  were  nodding  lilacs,  roses  in  many  shades, 
round  clusters  of  ragged  robin  bluer  than  any  sky,  and 
in  one  corner,  thrust  into  a  pendant  water  vessel,  a  few 
spikes  of  yellow  iris.  The  girl's  gaze  fastened  on  these. 
The  peddler,  with  the  prescience  that  belongs  to  an 
itinerary  trade,  felt  the  look  and  raised  his  eyes,  making 
gestures  that  invited  her  to  buy.  But  she  shook  her 
head  and  drew  back  from  the  window. 

She  had  not  heard  Mr.  Martel  enter.  He  now  bent 
over  his  wife  and  put  a  little  packet  in  her  hands.  She 
tore  at  the  wrappings  awkwardly,  for  her  ringers  shook. 

"Oh,  you  darling,"  she  cried,  long  before  the  covering 
was  removed.  "I  know  what  it  is.  I'm  just  crazy 
over  it,  too.  My  lovely,  lovely,  blue  necklace  !"  Now 
it  was  disclosed,  but  in  trying  to  clasp  it,  the  jewel  fell 
to  the  floor.  Martel  picked  it  up  and  fastened  it  about 


3o8  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

his  wife's  neck.  He  seemed  unconscious  of  Ariadne's 
presence. 

Mrs.  Martel's  face  grew  purple.  Her  pale,  prominent 
eyes  became  suffused  with  tears :  she  was  as  one  suffo- 
cating with  happiness. 

"Oh,  Ariadne,  look!  Did  you  ever  see  anything 
lovelier?  I  must  give  you  a  little  kiss,  Connie,  for 
being  so  good  to  me."  She  pulled  at  his  hand  and  he 
leaned  over,  turning  his  smooth  cheek.  She  pressed 
tremulous,  fervent  lips  to  it. 

"Now,"  she  said  to  them  both,  "I  feel  that  a  little 
drive  in  the  park  would  do  us  all  good.  Ariadne,  don't 
begin  to  back  off  that  way.  You  are  so  contrary.  Of 
course  you  are  going,  too." 

"What  hat  will  you_wear,  Madonna?"  asked  the  girl. 
"I'll  get  it  for  you."  " 

"The  big  black  one,  with  plumes  and  pink  roses," 
Mrs.  Martel  replied,  "and  I  don't  think  I'll  need  any- 
thing heavier  than  my  charmeuse  coat.  It  is  a  perfect 
day." 

As  Ariadne  went  to  get  them,  she  heard  the  happy, 
excited  voice  hurrying  on:  "I  was  just  saying,  as  you 
came  in,  Connie,  that  London  is  having  a  magical  effect 
on  all  of  us.  I  feel  better  than  I  have  for  years,  and 
I've  given  up  all  idea  of  that  heart  specialist.  If  there 
really  was  anything  wrong,  you  have  cured  it  already." 
She  patted  his  hand.  "I  believe  there  was  something 
uncanny  about  the  Hague  and  that  old  hotel.  Ugh  ! 
It  makes  me  shudder  just  to  think  of  it.  I'll  never 
consent  to  go  back  there.  The  last  week  especially 
-  you  were  so  strange,  and  then  Ariadne  had  that  acci- 
dent —  and  her  crazy  little  doctor  tried  to  frighten  me 
to  death.  What  was  it  about  that  last  week,  anyway  ?  " 
She  paused,  looking  up  to  his  dark  face  for  a  reply. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  309 

Ariadne  was  coming  toward  her  with  the  coat  and  hat. 
The  girl  paused,  her  eyes  downcast. 

"I  should  say  it  was  all  a  matter  of  your  own  nerves, 
my  dear,"  he  answered.  "Of  course  Ariadne  had  a  bit 
of  a  fright  in  the  storm,  but  Sir  Galahad  was  there  to 
the  rescue." 

Ariadne  bit  her  lip.  Was  this  a  random  shot,  or  had 
this  man  heard  Randy's  legal  nickname  ? 

"Sir  Galahad  !"  echoed  Donna.  "Oh,  you  mean  that 
Carr  man.  Ariadne  is  through  and  done  with  him; 
she's  just  told  me  so.  I'll  put  the  hat  on  here,  Ariadne. 
Please  let  me  have  two  of  the  long  pins.  She's  told  me 
something  else  too,  Connie,  something  that  will  please 
you.  That  old  Judge  Henry  is  actually  on  his  way  to 
London." 

Ariadne  felt  the  man's  sudden  start  and  his  look  of 
inquiry. 

"Of  course  it  is  in  answer  to  my  letter;  what  else 
could  it  be?"  Mrs.  Martel  went  on.  "And  when  we 
have  that  money,  there  will  be  nothing  to  worry  about, 
will  there,  dearest  ?  "  She  smiled  fondly  on  her  husband, 
who  stood  back  a  little  as  Ariadne  advanced  with  the 
coat.  Donna  rose  to  her  feet.  Every  motion  was  made 
with  apparent  ease  and  lightness.  She  held  out  one  arm 
and  then  the  other,  and  when  the  coat  was  on,  began 
searching  over  the  dresser  for  a  certain  brooch.  This 
was  a  miniature  of  her  husband,  done  by  a  famous 
Parisian  artist,  and  set  in  pearls. 

She  did  not  notice  that  Martel  had  made  no  answer 
to  her  last  remark.  "Ah,  here  it  is,"  she  said,  taking 
up  the  pin.  "Now,  Ariadne,  get  on  a  light  coat  and 
your  pretty  blue  little  motor-bonnet  —  the  one  with 
long  strings." 

"Madonna  —  really  —  if  you  don't  mind,"  said 
Ariadne  in  a  distressed  voice. 


3io  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Mr.  Martel  put  an  arm  over  his  wife's  shoulder  and 
turned  her  toward  the  door.  His  caressing  voice  was 
low,  but  entirely  audible.  "You  must  think  of  me, 
little  woman ;  I  greatly  prefer  having  you  to  myself." 

"Oh,  Connie,"  she  said,  with  a  delighted  laugh. 
"You  know  how  I  feel  too  —  but  poor  Ariadne." 

"You  can  take  her  another  time,  when  I  have  letters 
to  write." 

She  lifted  her  head  and  whispered  something.  With- 
out a  spoken  reply,  the  man  took  down  his  arm,  thrust 
two  languid  fingers  into  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and 
sauntered  across  the  room. 

"Your  mother  wants  you  to  have  this,"  he  said, 
•extending  a  gold  coin.  Ariadne  looked  at  him.  He 
smiled,  gave  an  incipient  shrug,  and  laid  the  money 
gently  upon  the  corner  of  the  dressing-table  nearest  her. 
Then  he  went  back  to  Donna,  again  encircled  her  with 
his  arm,  and  moved  toward  the  door.  On  the  threshold 
he  turned  his  face,  and  meeting  Ariadne's  eyes,  gave 
her  a  long  look  of  malignant  triumph. 

When  they  were  out  of  hearing,  the  girl  slowly  clinched 
both  hands  and  raised  a  face  more  bloodless  than  the 
wax  candles  near  her.  Anger  was  an  emotion  she  had 
seldom  felt,  but  now  a  white,  burning,  consuming  flame 
of  rage  leaped  up,  scorching  her  very  soul.  Scarcely 
knowing  that  she  moved,  she  got  from  the  big  luxurious 
room  into  her  own  smaller  one.  She  locked  the  door 
and  turned,  still  without  definite  consciousness  of  move- 
ment, when  all  at  once  a  tremor  caught  her,  and  she 
sank,  weak  and  shivering,  into  the  nearest  chair.  Her 
hands  were  still  clinched,  but  her  head  drooped  heavily 
forward.  Wave  after  wave  of  burning  fury  beat  upon 
her,  searing,  corroding  her,  yet  her  body  was  like  ice. 
As  molten  steel,  plunged  into  such  extremities,  takes 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  311 

on  another  nature,  she  felt  that  her  very  essence  was 
changing.  What  did  she  care  ?  What  had  life  brought 
to  the  girl,  Ariadne,  that  she  should  wish  to  remain 
unchanged  ?  Let  her  be  transmuted  into  a  sword  —  a 
demon  —  a  disembodied  vengeance.  Let  her  retrieve 
by  full  and  answering  torment  the  wrongs  of  that  slain 
young  life  that  had  been  called  Ariadne. 

Her  teeth  chattered,  and  through  the  tortured  mind 
flamed  her  despair.  "This  is  the  end  of  it  all.  Some- 
thing I  used  to  think  my  soul  has  gone.  It  is  frightened. 
It  will  never  come  back.  But  I  am  not  frightened.  I 
am  strong.  Let  the  heat  come ;  it  only  freezes  me. 
Ariadne  kept  faith  with  her  father.  But  I  am  not 
Ariadne.  She  had  too  much  to  endure.  Poor  little 
Ariadne  —  who  is  dead,  and  who  tried  so  hard  to  be 
good." 

A  sob  rose  in  the  strained  throat.  She  struck  at  it 
with  the  back  of  her  hand.  This  new  creature,  now  in 
the  throes  of  fire-birth,  could  not  allow  human  weakness. 
"I  must  not  think  back  for  one  moment,"  she  told 
herself  fiercely.  '  These  people  have  gorged  themselves 
upon  my  heart.  They  took  away  my  love  from  me. 
I  have  been  manacled  and  blindfolded  with  useless 
promises.  Now  I  am  free.  I  will  live  my  own  life. 
I  will  go  from  these  vultures,  taking  what  is  mine. 
Let  them  make  the  best  of  it.  I've  served  them  all 
these  years.  They  have  had  my  youth  and  happiness 
—  and  now  for  them,  I  am  losing  -  Oh,  I  don't 
know  what  it  is  —  I  am  afraid  to  think  - 

She  struggled  to  her  feet,  staring  dreadfully.  "I 
tell  you  I  will  not  think,"  she  cried  aloud,  as  to  another 
presence.  "My  father  had  no  right  to  bind  me.  I 
must  have  life  a  little  while.  I  shall  have  it." 

She   closed   her  eyes,   and   the   shivering  phantoms 


3i2  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

again  possessed  her.  Through  them,  like  a  gentle, 
fearless  hand,  a  whisper  seemed  to  come.  "My  little 
daughter,  my  precious  little  chum,  I  know  I  can  trust 
you." 

"Oh,  father  —  father!"  she  cried  in  agony.  "I've 
kept  faith  until  now,  but  I  can't  do  it  any  longer.  I'll 
give  the  money  back  to  Donna,  keeping  just  enough  to 
live  upon.  But  you  couldn't  have  known  that  she  would 
bring  this  vileness  into  our  lives.  You  can't  want  me 
to  stay  near  him.  I  have  never  failed  when  she  really 
needed  me.  I  gave  up  my  lover  for  a  promise  that  was 
not  needed.  She  is  well  again.  She  has  everything. 
With  the  money  she  can  pay  off  whatever  threatens  the 
creature  she  loves.  No  one  needs  me  any  longer.  Let 
me  go  by  myself.  I  cannot  face  endless  years  of  this 
humiliation.  Oh,  father,  did  you  see  his  face  as  he  held 
the  money  out  to  me?" 

She  peered  into  memory,  like  some  stricken  thing  in 
a  jungle,  seeking  a  secret,  hidden  path,  but  the  vision 
and  the  memory  were  gone. 

The  waves  of  passion,  too,  were  ebbing.  They  cringed 
and  whimpered  at  her  feet.  The  ice  around  her  heart 
broke  up;  at  the  first  warm  flood  of  tears  she  knew 
that  her  demon  had  lost  forever  the  stake  for  which  he 
had  played. 

She  sobbed  on  quietly,  facing  now  without  rebellion 
the  long  stretch  of  arid  life  to  come.  She  knew  she 
was  bound,  not  only  by  her  father's  will,  but  by  the 
deepest  fibers  of  her  own  nature.  There  was  nothing 
for  her  but  a  gray,  negative  submission.  She  must  go 
on,  being  at  once  her  stepmother's  slave  and  her  source 
of  livelihood.  She  must  remain  an  uncomplaining 
victim.  How  long  she  sat  there,  facing  the  desert,  she 
would  never  know. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  313 

At  times  of  utter  hopelessness,  a  minute  or  an  hour 
count  for  the  same  in  a  span  of  time.  Nothing  mattered 
or  ever  again  could  really  matter. 

A  timid  knock  came  for  a  second  time  at  the  door 
before  she  could  rouse  herself  to  answer.  Probably  it 
was  a  bell-boy  summoning  her  to  luncheon.  She 
opened.  Cummins  stood  there,  her  face  twitching  with 
excitement. 

"Oh,  come,  Miss  —  quick  —  quick!"  she  gasped. 
"Mrs.  Martel  'as  fainted  in  the  lift.  They  can't  bring 
'er  to.  A  doctor  has  been  sent  for.  Mr.  Martel's 
going  on  like  a  mad  creature.  He  thinks  she's  dying." 

Without  a  thought  of  her  disordered  hair,  her  tear- 
swollen  eyes,  Ariadne  followed  the  maid  to  her  step- 
mother's room. 


CHAPTER  II 

NEXT  morning  Ariadne  woke  with  a  start.  Her  one 
window,  screened  with  heavy  curtains,  let  in  no  more 
light  than  early  dawn  could  give :  yet  she  knew  by 
instinct  that  the  hour  was,  for  her,  unusually  late. 
She  had  slept  as  one  drugged.  Though  now  she  sat 
up  in  bed,  feeling  toward  the  stand  for  her  small  traveling 
clock,  memory  and  consciousness  had  not  returned. 
Something  terrible  —  immediate  —  had  happened.  It 
was  to  Donna. 

It  came  back  now  in  a  tide  of  horror.  For  hours  the 
doctors  had  battled  for  Donna's  life.  It  had  been  she, 
Ariadne,  who  had  told  them  of  Doctor  Bergen  and  his 
tentative  diagnosis.  Fortunately,  she  could  remember 
and  repeat  the  name  of  the  London  specialist  who  had 
been  recommended.  Afterward  —  a  long  time  after- 
ward —  it  seemed,  the  great  surgeon  had  come ;  he 
and  the  physicians  held  a  somber  consultation.  What 
they  had  said  to  Mr.  Martel  the  girl  could  only  guess. 
When,  after  midnight,  she  had  finally  come  to  her 
room,  a  trained  nurse  sat  beside  the  sick  woman,  and 
it  was  understood  that  next  day  Mrs.  Martel  was  to  be 
taken  to  a  nursing  home  in  Wimpole  Street. 

Ariadne  looked  at  the  clock.  It  was  after  ten.  She 
rang  the  bell  sharply.  To  her  relief  Cummins  entered. 

"How  is  she  now?"  the  girl  questioned,  in  a  sort  of 
terror. 

"She's  easy-like  now,  Miss.  There's  nothin'  for  you 
to  worry  about.  Shall  I  make  your  bath?" 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  315 

"Yes,  at  once,  and  have  some  breakfast  brought  to 
me  here.  I  don't  care  what  it  is.  Has  the  hour  been 
set  for  taking  her  to  the  hospital  ?  " 

"Rich  folks  don't  go  to  'ospitals  over  here,  Miss  Skip- 
with.  I  believe  it's  just  at  noon  they'll  fetch  'er  to  the 
Nursing  'Ome." 

"Is  Mr.  Martel  with  her?" 

"No,  Miss.  She  have  coaxed  'im  to  go  for  a  little 
walk.  And  'e  needs  it.  I  never  saw  a  gentleman  take 
on  like  'im  —  all  the  'otel  servants  are  talking  of  it." 

"That  will  please  poor  Donna,"  thought  the  girl. 

After  the  bath  and  breakfast  she  went  to  her  step- 
mother's room,  and  but  for  the  contrast  with  the  more 
ghastly  face  of  the  night  before,  Ariadne  would  have 
felt  alarm.  The  sick  woman  was  in  bed,  propped  up 
slightly  among  pillows.  As  Ariadne  approached  her, 
she  gave  a  welcoming  smile. 

"Oh,  Donna,"  cried  the  girl,  "you  did  give  us  such  a 
fright !  I'm  so  thankful  you  are  better  now." 

"I  suppose  I  was  too  happy  yesterday,"  said  the  older 
woman;  "they  all  insist  that  I  shall  go  into  a  Nursing 
Home  and  receive  regular  treatment.  You  don't  think 
I  can  get  out  of  it,  do  you,  nurse?" 

"I'm  not  at  liberty  to  express  a  personal  opinion," 
said  the  nurse,  primly. 

The  invalid  looked  like  a  slapped  child.  Ariadne 
gave  her  hand  a  loving  little  squeeze,  but  the  awkward- 
ness of  the  moment  was  broken  by  the  quick,  professional 
rap  of  the  bell-boy.  Ariadne  went  to  the  door  and  took 
from  a  small  silver  salver  two  visiting  cards. 

"It's  Cousin  Judge  Henry  !  He's  in  the  drawing- 
room  now."  She  flashed  around  to  the  bell-boy.  "Say 
I  shall  be  down  in  a  moment,  please.  Oh,  Donna, 
isn't  it  splendid  he's  here !  I  suppose  you  couldn't  see 


3i6  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

him,"  she  gave  a  hurried  glance  toward  the  nurse's 
austere,  white-clad  form. 

"But  I  must,  I  simply  must,"  Mrs.  Martel  exclaimed. 
"  Don't  keep  him  waiting,  Ariadne.  When  nurse  has  me 
ready,  I'll  send  down  word." 

The  girl,  venturing  one  more  look  at  the  English- 
woman, this  time  of  pleading,  hurried  out.  She  could 
not  wait  for  the  lift.  She  took  the  curved  stairways 
like  a  faun.  Judge  Henry  rose  as  she  entered,  and,  seeing 
her  hesitate  for  a  shy  instant,  leaned  over  and  kissed  her 
cheek. 

"Well  — well  — little  Ariadne  of  Allan  Water,"  he 
said,  "and  such  a  traveler,  such  a  woman  of  the  world, 
as  you  have  become." 

"  I'm  just  the  same  Ariadne,  even  if  I  look  different. 
Oh,  Cousin  Judge  !"  she  cried,  "it  is  so  good  to  see  you 
again.  You  haven't  changed  a  particle ;  and  how  is 
Grandma  and  Cousin  Nellie  —  and  dear  little  Dick 
Carter?  Why,  little  Dick  must  be  a  great  big  boy  by 
now." 

"  There's  a  good  deal  more  of  him  in  every  way," 
laughed  the  Judge,  "especially  as  to  mischief.  But  you 
will  soon  see  for  yourself." 

"Oh,  if  I  could  only  go  back  home !  "  the  girl  sighed, 
"but  there  isn't  any  hope  of  it." 

The  Judge  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  but  checked  him- 
self. His  kind  eyes  shone  with  some  secret  pleasure. 
Then  he  said  in  an  ordinary  tone:  "But  I  am  here 
to  find  out  more  about  you,  dear  child.  Come,  sit  here 
beside  me.  Remember  I  was  your  father's  best  friend. 
I  have  had  many  hours  of  sadness  because  of  the 
impossibility  of  being  near  his  daughter." 

"But  you  are  here  now,"  said  Ariadne,  smiling. 

The  Judge  sighed.     His  pleasant  face  became  very 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  317 

grave.     "Yes,    I    am    here  —  and    not    altogether    on 
pleasant  business.     The  fact  is,  Ariadne,  a  most  dis- 
tressing situation  has  come  to  light.     I  regret  deeply 
that  you  should  have  to  know  such  things  at  all  — 
He  hesitated  and  was  plainly  embarrassed. 

"It  is  something  about  Mr.  Martel?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Judge.  "Your  own  pure  instinct 
would  lead  you  to  suspect  such  a  man.  He  is  —  to  put 
it  plainly  —  a  scoundrel,  an  adventurer  of  the  lowest 
type.  Neither  you  nor  Ransome's  widow  can  be  allowed 
to  remain  with  him  any  longer." 

As  briefly  as  he  could,  and  with  many  pauses  to  find 
suitable  words  for  a  young  girl's  hearing,  he  told  her 
of  Martel's  previous  marriage  and  the  suit  brought  by 
his  wife  for  false  divorce.  "You  knew,  perhaps,  that 
your  stepmother  had  written  me  very  urgently  for  a 
large  sum  of  money,"  he  added.  "Of  course  it  is  to 
pay  this  blackmail.  Has  she  any  idea  of  the  man's  real 
need  of  it?" 

"None  in  the  world.  And  oh,  Cousin  Judge,  you 
cannot  tell  her  yet.  She  is  very  ill." 

"Do  you  mean  that  she  is  in  a  serious  —  a  dangerous 
condition?" 

"I  do,  indeed.  We  thought  she  was  dying  yesterday. 
She  is  to  be  taken  to  a  hospital,  within  a  few  hours. 
There  may  be  an  operation."  Her  voice  lowered  on  the 
last  word.  She  feared  that  even  this  allusion  encroached 
upon  her  promise  to  Donna. 

The  Judge  frowned,  tapping  the  chair  nervously  with 
his  long  finger. 

"But  this  is  distressing  —  most  distressing.  It  com- 
plicates everything  !"  he  said.  "However,  she  may  soon 
recover.  In  these  days  of  science,  an  operation  can  be 
often  taken  quite  lightly." 


3i8  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Not  the  kind  she  will  have,"  protested  Ariadne, 
"I  must  not  say  any  more  about  it  —  but  oh,  Cousin 
Judge  —  if  the  nurse  lets  her  send  for  you,  do  be  very, 
very  kind." 

"You  may  rely  on  my  courtesy  to  a  lady,"  the  Vir- 
ginian said. 

"I  know  that  —  of  course,"  said  Ariadne,  smiling 
back  at  him.  "But  I  want  you  to  be  more  than  cour- 
teous, or  even  kind.  She  thinks  you  have  come  to  bring 
her  the  money.  Oh,  I  hope  you  have.  If  I  have  any 
influence  at  all  in  getting  it,  —  I  mean  about  my  signa- 
ture, —  I  want  to  help  her  to  get  it." 

"You  desire  to  place  twenty  thousand  dollars  out  of 
your  father's  capital  in  the  hands  of  a  scamp  like 
Martel?" 

"I'm  not  thinking  of  him,  or  what  he  will  do  with 
it,"  said  the  girl.  "It  is  for  Donna,  to  make  her  happy." 

The  Judge's  eyes  grew  puzzled  and  a  little  curious. 
"Has  she,  then,  shown  you  such  consistent  tenderness 
that  you  are  willing  to  make  this  further  sacrifice?" 

"Next  to  her  husband,  she  cares  for  me,"  answered 
the  girl.  Then,  an  instant  later,  she  looked  more  directly 
into  his  face,  and  added,  "Yes,  in  her  own  way  Donna 
loves  me  —  and  she  needs  me." 

The  Judge  leaned  over  and  took  one  of  the  slender 
hands  in  his  own. 

"But  you,  Ariadne?  Remember  that  my  first  con- 
sideration must  always  be  for  you.  What  can  such 
people  have  been  able  to  give  you  in  return?"  She 
turned  away  a  little,  lowering  her  eyes.  His  gentle 
voice  went  on.  "That  they  have  not  really  harmed 
you  I  can  see  from  the  candor  and  purity  of  your  face ; 
and  yet  this  intimate  life  with  them,  this  daily  and 
almost  hourly  companionship,  especially  with  a  degen- 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  319 

erate  like  Martel,  cannot  entirely  have  satisfied  you. 
I  beg  you  to  speak  to  me  freely.  It  is  my  affection  that 
prompts  these  somewhat  presumptuous  queries." 

Ariadne's  hand  had  been  lying  passively  in  his.  She 
withdrew  it  now.  Her  head  was  lowered,  and  her 
young  face  had  become  intensely  sad.  Now,  with  a 
little  gesture  of  yielding,  she  let  both  hands  fall  into  her 
lap,  and  then  resolutely  lifted  her  head  and  fixed  her 
clear,  truthful  eyes  on  his. 

"Then  I  will  tell  you.  I  don't  think  that  Donna 
has  ever  dreamed  of  it,  but  in  all  these  seven  years, 
there  has  not  been  one  minute  when  my  heart  was  not 
aching  for  home  and  for  my  own  people." 

Judge  Henry  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  passed  his 
long  fingers  slowly  across  his  forehead. 

"This  is  as  I  feared,"  he  said  at  length ;  "it  could  not 
have  been  otherwise." 

For  a  while  they  sat  in  silence.  Heavy  thoughts 
hung  between  them,  and  then  the  Judge,  again  taking 
her  hand,  began  to  speak. 

"In  the  eyes  of  the  world,  my  dear,  I  may  still  be 
counted  as  old-fashioned  —  a  man  bred  to  ideas  of 
honor  and  of  right  conduct  that  to  our  modern  standards 
seems  over-scrupulous  and  even  Quixotic.  But  down 
in  the  hearts  of  all  decent  people  there  still  survives 
a  reverence  for  that  beautiful  thing  called  loyalty. 
You  were  only  a  child  when  a  strange  and  almost  cruel 
task  was  put  upon  you.  Events  your  poor  father  could 
not  have  foreseen  have  made  your  burden  well-nigh 
unbearable.  For  seven  years  you  have  borne  it  in  un- 
complaining sweetness.  There  is  no  touch  of  bitter- 
ness in  your  young  face  or  in  your  eyes,  and  yet  there 
is  not  a  man  I  know  who  could  have  endured  and  kept 
faith  with  himself  and  with  his  obligations  as  you  have 


320  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

done.  My  child,  I  reverence  and  honor  you.  As  a 
Virginian  I  am  proud  of  you,  and  as  a  man  who  puts 
before  all  else  the  integrity  of  a  human  soul,  I  bow  be- 
fore you  —  and  kiss  the  little  hand,  so  strong,  so  brave, 
and  yet  so  girlishly  tender.  God  has  you  in  his  keeping, 
dear  child.  Great  happiness  must  yet  be  your  portion." 

Ariadne's  upturned  eyes  had  not  left  his.  When  the 
gray  head  bent  toward  her,  she  still  gazed  on,  the  lumi- 
nous beauty  of  her  face  deepening.  She  felt  no  sense 
of  deprecation  or  of  embarrassment.  The  old  man's 
words  had  been  a  benediction.  As  he  raised  his  face, 
she  saw  that  tears  stood  in  his  kind  brown  eyes.  No 
moisture  touched  her  own.  She  answered  him  now  as 
soul  to  soul. 

"I  have  kept  faith  with  my  father,  and  at  times  it 
has  been  very,  very  hard.  I've  never  felt  that  it  was  a 
thing  that  could  be  praised  in  me.  There  was  nothing 
else  I  could  do.  But  now  —  for  you  to  speak  to  me 
like  this  —  it  makes  me  see  that  the  suffering  and  the 
homesickness  have  not  been  entirely  wasted ;  why,  it 
is  as  if  you  had  put  a  crown  on  me.  I  don't  deserve  it 
all,  —  there  have  been  times  of  rebellion  and  wicked 
thoughts,  —  but  I  shall  always  carry  my  head,  I  think, 
as  if  your  crown  were  there." 

"You  are  one  of  those  children  of  righteousness  of 
whom  Wordsworth  sings,  my  dear : 

"  '  Souls  without  one  stain  or  blot 

Who  do  God's  will  and  know  it  not.' " 

Without  quite  knowing  why,  both  had  risen,  and  now 
stood  at  the  window,  looking  down  with  unseeing  eyes 
into  the  narrow  street. 

Cummins  approached  them  softly.     As  Judge  Henry 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  321 

turned,  the  maid  said,  "Mrs.  Martel's  compliments, 
sir,  and  she  is  allowed  to  see  you  for  a  few  moments." 

"Certainly,  at  once,"  he  replied,  gathering  up  his 
hat,  gloves,  and  stick. 

"Shall  I  come,  too?"  Ariadne  whispered. 

"Yes,  at  any  rate,  at  first.  If  she  desires  a  private 
interview,  I  shall,  of  course,  grant  it." 

Mrs.  Martel  was  in  a  flowered  silk  wrapper,  propped 
among  colored  pillows  at  the  end  of  a  long  divan.  The 
trained  nurse,  with  disapprobation  written  clearly  across 
her  starched  white  back,  was  just  leaving  by  another 
door. 

It  needed  all  Judge  Henry's  self-control  to  keep  from 
his  face  the  shock  that  the  first  sight  of  the  sick  woman 
gave  him.  The  hand  of  welcome  stretched  toward 
him  was  the  color  of  clay,  and  the  touch,  moist,  heavy, 
and  dead,  brought  a  shudder  to  the  living  fingers  that 
grasped  it. 

She  began  talking  at  once.  "Oh,  I'm  so  thankful 
you  got  here,  Judge  Henry,  before  they  carried  me  off 
to  that  wretched  Nursing  Home.  It  will  be  such  a 
relief  to  me  to  have  all  this  money  question  settled.  Of 
course  you  came  over  for  that.  Dear  Connie  will  be 
so  pleased.  And  now  there  will  be  somebody  to  look 
after  Ariadne  when  I'm  taken  away.  Of  course  she  could 
stay  on  here  with  Connie.  He  is  perfectly  devoted  to 
her.  But  he  will  want  to  be  at  the  Home  with  me  a 
good  deal,  and  Ariadne  might  find  it  lonely.  Don't 
you  think  she  has  become  a  fine,  tall  girl,  Judge  ?" 

She  turned  her  eyes  from  one  to  another  of  her  some- 
what embarrassed  visitors,  letting  them  rest  with  un- 
mistakable affection  on  the  younger  face. 

"Ariadne  is  a  dear,  good  child,  too,  just  a  little  quiet 
for  a  girl,"  Mrs.  Martel  continued.  "But  as  I  often 


322  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

say,  no  sister  of  my  own  could  be  more  to  me  than  poor 
Ransome's  child.  I've  always  tried  to  do  my  duty  by 
her,  Judge  Henry." 

"Your  intentions  do  you  credit,  dear  lady.  And 
now  may  I  speak  a  moment  of  my  cousin's  plans  ?  "  . 

"Yes,  but  don't  take  long.  That  dragon  of  a  nurse 
will  be  back  in  a  minute  —  and  of  course  it's  the  money 
that  I'm  interested  in." 

"I  perceive  that,"  said  the  visitor,  a  little  dryly. 
"The  other,  and  less  important  matter,  can  be  quickly 
disposed  of.  I  am  at  the  Morley  in  Trafalgar  Square, 
an  old-fashioned  but  most  respectable  hotel.  I  suggest 
that  I  take  Ariadne  back  with  me  now,  and  I  will  get 
her  a  room  there.  It  will  be  more  appropriate,  I  think, 
than  for  her  to  remain  at  this  hotel." 

At  Ariadne's  eager  assent,  the  sick  woman  moved  her 
head  fretfully. 

"I  suppose  it  would  from  your  point  of  view,  Judge 
Henry,  but  I  assure  you  that  my  husband  is  perfectly 
capable  of  looking  after  her.  He  has  done  so  long 
enough." 

"Exactly,"  said  the  Judge.  "Quite  long  enough  — 
which  makes  a  stronger  reason  why  I  should  now  assume 
some  responsibility.  Besides,  there  is  something  at  the 
hotel  that  I  have  brought  from  Virginia  and  that  I  want 
my  cousin  to  see.  You  can  easily  keep  in  touch  with 
her  by  telephone." 

"Have  it  your  own  way,"  said  Mrs.  Martel.  "Sup- 
pose you  go  and  pack  your  dressing-case  now,  Ariadne. 
I'd  like  to  see  Judge  Henry  alone  for  a  moment." 

The  girl  flew  from  the  room  and  called  over  her 
shoulder.  "I'm  in  Number  forty-six  on  the  same  floor, 
Cousin  Judge,  if  you  want  me." 

The  moment  they  were  alone,  Mrs.  Martel  sat  up, 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  323 

though  the  effort  brought  a  more  ghastly  pallor.  She 
pressed  her  hand  instinctively  to  her  side.  The  Judge 
hastened  to  draw  a  chair  near  her. 

"The  money,"  she  gasped,  when  she  could  speak  at 
all,  "is  it  with  you  now?"  Again  the  corpse-like  hand 
went  out. 

The  Judge  cleared  his  throat  to  gain  time.  "No,  it 
is  not  with  me.  One  does  not  carry  about  so  large  a  sum. 
In  fact,  my  dear  Madam  — 

"Oh,  don't  tell  me  there's  going  to  be  any  red  tape 
and  legal  delays,"  the  other  broke  in.  "We  are  being 
horribly  pressed  for  it.  As  you  know,  Mr.  Martel  made 
some  unfortunate  speculation  in  Paris.  He  will  never 
attempt  this  sort  of  thing  again.  He  promised  me,  and 
I  can  trust  him.  Ariadne  wants  you  to  raise  the  money 
just  as  much  as  I  do." 

"So  she  has  told  me,"  said  the  Judge.  "Ah,  what  a 
noble,  what  an  exquisite  young  woman  she  has  become  !  " 

"What  with  this  illness  of  mine,  and  having  to  go  to  a 
nursing  home,  and  those  French  creatures  tormenting 
him  to  death  for  the  money,  my  poor  husband  is  almost 
out  of  his  mind." 

"That  is  deplorable,  of  course,"  said  the  Judge,  "but 
what  you  ladies  seldom  realize  in  matters  of  finance  is 
the  difficulty  of  getting  together  these  large  sums  in 
actual  cash.  Your  late  husband's  fortune  is  all  in  the 
form  of  investments.  From  these  investments  your 
income  is  derived." 

"But  there  are  ways  of  raising  money  on  investments. 
Don't  they  have  margins  that  can  be  turned  into  cash, 
or  you  could  sell  something?  I  know  there  was  some 
sort  of  a  mine  in  West  Virginia.  Why  don't  you  sell 
the  mine?" 

Judge  Henry  sighed.     There  was  no  use  attempting 


324  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

explanation.  So  he  repeated,  a  little  hopelessly,  "It 
is  practically  impossible  to  raise  so  large  a  sum  at  such 
short  notice." 

"  If  you  haven't  brought  the  money,  why  did  you  come 
at  all  ?  "  she  questioned  sharply. 

The  Judge  was  disconcerted.  His  eyes  fell.  "I 
must  confess  to  other  motives  for  my  visit.  Perhaps 
the  strongest  was  to  see  my  young  relative." 

"You  mean  Ariadne  !  Well,  I've  told  you  that  she 
wishes  it,  too.  She  is  one  of  us.  If  you  don't  help 
Connie  out  of  this  difficulty,  Ariadne  will  suffer  as  much 
as  he  and  I  will.  You  must  see  that.  Her  father  made 
his  will  so  that  she  could  not  leave  us." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  Judge  a  little  sternly.  "Ran- 
some  Skipwith,  in  his  tender  solicitude  for  your  welfare 
and  his  belief  in  Ariadne's  splendid  qualities  of  mind 
and  heart,  was  led  into  making  an  arrangement  which 
has  proved  altogether  unjust  to  his  only  child.  Surely, 
you  cannot  imagine  that  he  considered  the  possibility 
of  your  remarriage." 

Mrs.  Martel  flushed  through  all  the  waxen  pallor. 
"Are  you  trying  to  say  that  I  led  him  into  making  such 
a  will?" 

"That  is  neither  here  nor  there,  Mrs.  Martel.  I 
have  carried  out  my  friend's  peculiar  wishes  in  the  spirit 
as  well  as  the  letter.  His  increasing  income  has  been 
paid  to  you  and  not  to  his  daughter." 

"And  I  have  shared  it  —  every  penny  —  with  Ariadne 
—  you  can  ask  her  if  I  haven't." 

That  she  was  a  sick  woman,  the  Judge  knew.  The 
touch  of  death  was  on  her  now,  and  if  death  came,  it 
brought  to  Ariadne  absolute  freedom ;  but  at  these  last 
words,  he  could  not  forbear  a  long,  stern  look  into  the 
woman's  eyes.  For  an  instant  she  defied  him,  then 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  325 

sank  back  among  the  gaudy  cushions,  covering  her 
face. 

"You  mean  about  the  money  that  I  want  for  Connie. 
It  is  a  different  thing,  I  admit,  but  I  must  have  it.  I 
must,  Judge  Henry.  He  never  lets  me  alone  a  minute. 
If  only  this  can  be  paid,  —  and  I  am  well  again,  —  we 
can  begin  a  new  life  together." 

"And  Ariadne?" 

"She  will  be  with  us,  of  course.  She  would  not  leave 
me  —  not  for  all  the  Virginia  relatives  on  earth."  She 
flashed  a  sly  look  of  triumph,  unspeakably  pathetic  from 
such  death-haunted  eyes. 

As  he  still  remained  silent,  his  brows  drawn  with 
thought,  she  rallied,  and,  clapping  her  hands,  cried  out : 
"Why,  I  have  it !  You  can  lend  us  the  money  and  then 
take  it,  little  by  little,  from  the  income." 

This  was  a  turn  of  affairs  the  Judge  had  not  foreseen. 
At  first  it  appeared  only  a  deeper  and  more  painful  prob- 
lem. He  was  determined  that  the  man  calling  himself 
Martel  should  not  free  himself  from  debt  at  Ariadne's 
future  expense.  Under  the  laws  of  his  trusteeship  that 
thing  had,  from  the  first,  been  impossible ;  but  now,  in 
this  more  personal  appeal,  he  saw  a  chance  of  temporiz- 
ing. He  felt  how  eagerly  the  sunken  eyes  were  watching 
him.  He  chose  his  next  words  carefully. 

"This  possible  escape  from  your  difficulties  had  not 
occurred  to  me.  I  will  not  say  it  cannot  be  done.  But 
I  shall  have  to  give  myself  a  little  time  to  think  it  over." 

"And  why  should  you  think  it  over  ?  You  are  a  rich 
man." 

"Again  it  is  a  matter  of  investments,"  he  replied. 
"My  letter  of  credit,  now  at  a  London  bank,  is  for 
exactly  four  hundred  pounds.  That,  you'll  admit,  would 
not  go  far  toward  your  —  your  husband's  debt." 


326  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  would  have  to  do  much  cabling  to  New  York.  I'm 
not  known  in  London." 

"But  you  will  cable.  Promise  me  you  will,"  she 
implored. 

"I'll  do  the  very  best  within  my  power  for  you  and 
Ariadne,"  he  evaded,  getting  to  his  feet.  "And  now  I 
think  I  must  be  going." 

"Please  touch  that  bell,  then,"  she  said;  "I  want  to 
bid  Ariadne  good-by.  You  will  let  her  come  to  see  me 
to-morrow  at  the  Nursing  Home  ?  " 

"To  be  sure.  In  fact,  I'm  convinced  that  no  one 
could  keep  her  from  you,  even  if  they  wished." 

"And  you  will  begin  cabling  at  once?"  Before  he 
could  answer,  Cummins  had  entered  and  been  sent  for 
Ariadne.  To  Judge  Henry's  great  relief  the  girl  re- 
sponded at  once.  She  went  up  to  her  stepmother, 
kneeling  beside  the  couch. 

"You  don't  mind,  do  you,  Donna?  Mr.  Martel  is 
going  with  you  to  the  Home,  and  you  don't  need  me. 
But  if  you  feel  lonely,  even  for  a  minute,  after  you  get 
there,  and  if  he  should  have  to  leave  you,  tell  one  of  the 
nurses  to  ring  me  up  at  the  Morley,  and  I'll  get  into  a 
taxi  and  come  at  once.  Now  promise  me." 

The  Judge,  watching  the  two  women,  thought  Ariadne's 
face  that  of  an  angel,  pleading  with  some  suffering  mortal 
for  its  own  salvation,  but  the  sick  woman  only  moved 
restlessly,  and,  without  looking  into  the  beautiful 
eyes  so  near  her  own,  said  in  a  querulous  voice:  "Oh, 
you  won't  be  thinking  of  me ;  I  shan't  trouble  you. 
Connie  will  let  you  know  when  I  can  see  you  at  the 
Home." 

The  nurse  entered  and  walked  up  to  the  couch.  "My 
patient  must  have  a  little  nourishment  now  and  an  hour's 
rest,  before  the  doctor  comes  for  her." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  327 

"Come,  Ariadne,"  said  the  Judge,  putting  his  hand 
upon  the  girl's  shoulder.  But  she  broke  from  him  to  go 
once  more  to  the  bedside. 

"Good-by,  Madonna.  Oh,  do  take  the  best  care  of 
yourself  and  get  well  quickly.  I  shall  telephone  the 
Home  every  hour  to  know  how  you  are  getting  along." 
She  kissed  the  flaccid  cheek,  so  indifferently  held  toward 
her,  but  at  the  last  moment  something  stirred  in  the  sick 
woman's  heart.  She  put  up  both  her  arms  and  drew  the 
girl  close. 

"Good-by,  my  dear,"  she  whispered.  "I  know  I've 
been  cross,  but  I'm  so  worried  about  this  money.  I  hope 
you'll  have  a  lovely  little  holiday.  I'll  see  you  in  the 
morning." 

"Good-by,  good-by,"  said  Ariadne.  Her  last  look 
from  the  doorway  at  Mrs.  Martel  met  a  smile  of  unusual 
sweetness. 

Just  outside  the  door  she  said  to  Judge  Henry,  in  a 
voice  that  shook :  "You  see  she  cares  for  me." 

They  rang  the  bell  for  the  lift,  and  as  it  came,  they 
saw  the  figure  of  a  man  within.  Ariadne  instinctively 
fell  back,  but  Martel,  after  a  quick  glance  from  her 
face  to  that  of  the  tall  American,  stepped  forward  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

"Judge  Henry,  I  am  sure?" 

The  lift  was  waiting.  Judge  Henry,  ignoring  the  out- 
stretched hand,  lifted  his  hat  slightly  and  slipped  past 
the  iron  grating,  followed  by  Ariadne.  It  was  all  done 
in  an  instant,  yet  much  had  been  conveyed.  Martel 
stood  where  they  had  left  him ;  a  look  of  disappoint- 
ment, then  indignation,  and  finally  of  slow,  black  hatred 
deepened  in  his  face.  In  a  moment  more  he  had  turned, 
giving  the  incipient  shrug  that  belonged  to  him,  and 
made  his  way  to  his  wife's  room. 


328  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

The  two  in  the  elevator  took  the  brief  descent  in 
silence,  nor  did  they  afterward  refer  to  the  unpleasant 
encounter.  Ariadne's  dressing-bag  already  waited  near 
the  hotel  entrance.  A  taxi  was  called,  and  the  Judge, 
with  old-world  courtesy,  handed  his  young  companion 
to  her  place.  He  took  a  seat  beside  her  and  gave  the 
direction  —  "Trafalgar  Square." 

Not  until  they  were  well  into  the  traffic  of  Regent 
Street  did  Ariadne  speak.  Smiling  up  at  him,  then, 
with  a  deprecating  little  frown  that  made  her  face  very 
young  and  charming,  she  said:  "I  can't  get  over  the 
feeling  that  I'm  running  away  from  school  —  playing 
'hookey'  as  we  used  to  say  at  home.  I'm  all  full  of 
happy  little  giggles  inside.  Yet  I  want  to  keep  looking 
over  my  shoulder  to  see  if  anybody  is  coming  after  me." 

"There's  nobody  to  come,"  answered  Judge  Henry, 
in  her  own  vein.  "You're  not  a  culprit  fay  but  a  very 
real  little  girl,  and  for  a  few  hours  I  want  you  to  try  and 
forget  all  the  troubles  and  perplexities  you  are  now 
leaving  and  belong,  as  you  said,  to  your  own  people." 

"I  shall  try.  It  isn't  wrong  to  Donna,  for  I  couldn't 
be  any  help  to  her  just  now.  I'm  going  to  play  that 
I'm  your  daughter,  and  you  are  driving  me  through 
London  for  the  first  time." 

She  looked  out  eagerly,  commenting  on  the  attractive 
shops  and  the  broad,  curving  street  with  its  throngs  of 
taxicabs  and  omnibuses  and  the  many  pedestrians  on 
the  broad  pavements. 

After  a  while  she  said,  as  if  to  herself:  "Oh,  I  wish 
Cousin  Nellie  had  come  with  you." 

Her  companion  said  nothing,  but  as  she  turned  to 
him  for  a  question,  she  caught  the  twinkle. 

"What  is  it  you  have  brought  from  Virginia  to  show 
me,  Cousin  Judge?" 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  329 

"Ah,  that  would  spoil  my  little  surprise.  We  are 
nearly  there  now.  Here  is  famous  Piccadilly  Circus, 
with  its  fountain  and  flower-sellers." 

Ariadne  agreed.  "But  the  funny  thing  to  me  is 
calling  these  open  places  '  circuses.'  I  always  find  myself 
looking  round  for  the  elephants  and  camels." 

"Now  we've  turned  into  the  Haymarket.  That  odd 
building  with  the  yellowish  columns  is  one  of  the  oldest 
and  best  known  theaters  in  London.  There's  an 
American  farce  being  played  there  now.  Another  bit 
of  incongruity." 

Ariadne  was  reading  the  street  signs.  "There  is 
Pall  Mall.  You  always  read  about  that  in  novels,  and 
oh,  there's  the  Nelson  statue  with  the  four  big  lions 
at  the  foot." 

"Do  you  see  just  across  the  square  —  that  small, 
yellow  portico?" 

"Yes.  You  mean  the  one  with  a  boy  leaning  over  the 
iron  banister?" 

Judge  Henry  gave  a  curious  kind  of  chuckle.  "Yes  — • 
with  the  boy.  That's  our  destination." 

"It  must  be  wonderful  to  live  right  on  this  Square 
where  so  much  is  passing.  And  look  at  that  boy;  he 
has  something  on  the  end  of  a  string.  Oh,  I  believe  it's 
a  snake.  He's  frightening  all  the  people  on  the  side- 
walk." 

"Evidently  a  young  American,"  said  the  Judge. 

"He's  a  lovely  boy,  anyway,"  cried  Ariadne.  "Look 
at  him  laughing.  The  people  are  laughing,  too.  No  one 
could  really  get  angry  with  a  face  like  that." 

"Oh,  never  mind  him,"  said  Judge  Henry  hurriedly. 
"I  want  to  get  you  into  the  hotel."  He  paid  the  driver 
and  took  Ariadne's  arm,  leading  her  swiftly  up  the 
short  flight  of  stairs.  She  looked  back  over  her  shoulder, 


330  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

but  young  America  was  again  bent  double  over  the  iron 
railing,  intent  upon  the  string  and  its  dangling  burden. 

"Sit  here  just  a  moment,  my  dear,"  said  Judge  Henry, 
indicating  a  chair  in  a  small  "lounge"  just  within  the 
entrance.  "I  must  go  up  and  see  to  a  room  for  you. 
Please  don't  move  until  I  return." 

In  a  very  few  moments  he  was  back.  His  face  beamed. 
About  him  was  a  certain  suppressed  excitement,  all 
the  more  noticeable  because  of  his  usual  quiet,  almost 
grave  demeanor. 

"Come,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "my  surprise  is  waiting." 

They  rang  the  bell  for  the  lift.  "It's  at  the  top  of 
the  house,  of  course.  They  would  seem  to  use  it  for  an 
observation  tower.  But  in  due  time  it  may  descend  — 
perhaps  I  should  say  condescend,  for  us.  Evidently 
they  take  no  chances  of  injury  by  friction,"  he  remarked, 
as  they  started  up  at  an  almost  imperceptible  rate  of 
motion.  "Ah,  here  we  are."  The  elevator  porter 
threw  open  two  iron  gratings  with  the  usual  stereotyped 
"Thank  you!"  and  the  Judge,  for  once  disregarding 
his  manners,  hurried  along  a  narrow  hall. 

"This  is  the  door,"  he  said,  pausing.  Ariadne  came 
up  with  him.  By  this  time  she  too  was  full  of  suppressed 
excitement.  Her  companion  waited  until  she  was  just 
in  front  of  him,  then,  leaning  forward,  took  the  knob 
in  his  hand  and  threw  back  the  door.  He  waited  only 
for  the  low  cry  of  amazement  and  the  ecstatic  words 
"Cousin  Nellie!"  then  closed  the  door  softly,  and 
smiling  broadly,  went  down-stairs  to  Dick  Carter. 

Ariadne  felt  as  if  she  could  never  take  her  arms  away 
from  the  warm,  sweet,  lovely  creature,  who,  embracing 
her  as  strenuously,  swayed  back  and  forth,  murmuring : 
"Ariadne  —  my  little  Ariadne  —  after  all  these  years  !" 

"He  didn't  tell  me  you  were  here,"  said  Ariadne, 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  331 

"only  that  he  had  brought  something  from  Virginia 
that  I  would  like  to  see.  I  didn't  dream  it  was  you  ! 
Oh,  Cousin  Nellie,  I  —  I  —  don't  know  what  to  do, 
I'm  so  happy.  I  believe  I'm  going  to  cry.  No,  I 
won't.  I  wish  I  could  do  like  Anguish  and  turn  hand- 
springs. Oh,  please  tell  me  everything  about  home." 

"You've  got  to  sit  down,"  said  Cousin  Nellie,  herself 
between  tears  and  laughter.  "My  knees  feel  like  soft- 
shelled  crabs.  Here,  take  this  chair  right  opposite,  so 
I  can  look  at  you.  Did  you  see  Dick  Kyarter  down- 
stairs?" 

"  Was  that  Dick  Carter  leaning  over  the  gallery 
railing  ?  " 

"Sounds  like  him.  He  generally  is,"  laughed  Dick's 
mother. 

"I  saw  him  and  said  what  a  lovely  boy  he  was,  but 
Cousin  Judge  wouldn't  let  me  stop.  Oh,  I  see  why  now. 
He  wanted  me  to  get  to  you  first." 

"Yes,  we've  been  planning  this  little  surprise  for  you, 
honey,  and  it  has  worked  just  as  we  planned.  When  I 
look  at  your  face,  I  don't  have  to  ask  if  you're  glad  to 
see  me,  you  blessed  lamb." 

"Glad  —  glad!"  cried  the  girl,  showing  by  a  little 
hopeless  gesture  how  impossible  it  was  to  express  her 
happiness.  "Why,  I  feel  as  if  all  the  Christmases  I 
have  missed  at  home  were  rolled  into  one  —  and  come  to 
life  in  you.  Oh,  Cousin  Nellie,  you  are  sweeter  and 
prettier  than  ever.  You  haven't  grown  one  day 
older!" 

"Nonsense,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  flushing  with  pleasure, 
"I'm  a  regular  female  Methuselah.  But  the  Judge 
does  take  good  care  of  me.  Now,  I  want  to  hear  your 
news,  my  dear.  We  can't  waste  time  talking  about  an 
early  Victorian  survival  like  me." 


332  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Ariadne  laughed  aloud  at  the  thought.  Vitality, 
intelligence,  and  loving  kindness  radiated  from  the 
older  woman  like  a  perfume.  Her  rich  "honey"  voice 
flowed  about  the  girl  like  music.  The  very  spirit  of 
Virginia  lay  in  its  subtle  accents.  Ariadne  leaned 
forward,  drinking  it  all  in.  At  first  the  words  were  un- 
important —  mere  fragmentary  questions  concerning 
Ariadne's  health  and  recent  travels,  to  which  the  girl 
answered  briefly.  She  did  not  want  Cousin  Nellie  to 
stop  talking. 

But  suddenly  a  change  came  over  the  speaker's  face. 
The  look  of  motherly  solicitude,  remembered  well  by 
Ariadne,  came  to  her  eyes. 

"By  the  way,  Ariadne,"  she  said,  "did  Dick  Kyarter 
have  a  string  with  a  horrible,  wriggling  thing  at  the  end 
of  it?" 

"I  think  he  did.  The  people  on  the  sidewalk  jumped 
back  when  they  saw  it." 

"I  thought  so.  I  do  hope  Judge  Henry  will  stop  him. 
It  is  a  huge  green  worm  with  yellow  spots,  a  toy  that  he 
picked  up  from  some  peddler.  Last  night  he  put  it  under 
a  door  across  from  us.  The  young  man  in  the  room  had 
been  on  a  spree,  and  you  can  imagine  ! "  She  gave  a 
gesture  of  humorous  despair.  "Judge  Henry  spends 
his  entire  time  apologizing  for  his  son's  misconduct. 
I'm  sure  we're  going  to  be  asked  to  leave  the  hotel. 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  go  down  before  he  gets  run  in. 
His  father  pretends  that  I  do  all  the  spoiling  —  when,  as 
a  fact,  I  am  nagging  at  the  poor  child  from  morning 
until  night.  Now  Judge  Henry,  when  he  sees  Dick 
doing  something  naughty,  buys  the  biggest  newspaper 
in  sight  and  hides  behind  it.  Maybe  I  should  go  to 
Dick — "  She  paused,  hesitating,  then  with  sudden 
decision  said :  "No,  I  won't;  we  must  talk  a  little  longer. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  333 

If  the  child  goes  to  jail,  his  father  will  simply  have  to 
bail  him  out." 

Again  came  the  exchange  of  surface  questions  and 
answers  —  of  laughter,  and  small  hesitations  as  a  broken 
thread  of  thought  was  seized,  and  all  the  eager,  spoken 
intercourse  of  two  hearts,  once  close,  and  now  newly 
met  after  long  absence.  There  was  much  the  girl  could 
not  disclose.  Now,  as  always,  she  felt  herself  surrounded 
by  a  ring  of  threatening,  pointed  spears,  visible  to  her 
alone.  She  was  never  to  have  freedom.  The  desire  for 
candor,  openness,  directness,  all  the  clear  virtues  of  a 
spirit  innately  sincere,  were  never  to  be  hers. 

With  the  elder  woman  —  whose  very  breath  was 
honesty  —  there  was  an  air  of  broad  sweetness  like 
Lanier's  southern  marshes.  She  was  "nothing  withhold- 
ing and  free."  The  girl  bathed  in  it  —  drank  it  in 
consciously.  It  was  a  life-giving  balm  after  the  foetid 
atmosphere  in  which  for  many  years  she  had  been  living. 

As  she  told  of  her  stepmother's  present  illness  and 
hinted  that  an  operation  might  be  necessary,  Mrs. 
Henry's  face  sobered.  "If  she  is  really  ill,  that  may 
make  a  difference  in  the  course  Judge  Henry  will  have 
to  take  with  her.  You  know,  I  suppose,  that  she  wrote 
him  saying  she  must  have  a  large  sum  of  money  at 
once?" 

"Yes,  I  knew  of  it.  I  think  she  really  needs  it.  I 
hope  Cousin  Judge  can  let  her  have  it." 

Mrs.  Henry  looked  troubled.  "In  the  case  of  her 
illness  —  since  she  is  ill  and  may  need  an  expensive 
operation  —  he  will  certainly  find  a  way  of  helping  her, 
but  as  to  handing  over  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  that 
creature  she's  living  with,  it  can't  be  done." 

Ariadne  was  silent.  She  did  not  wish  to  betray  a 
deeper  knowledge  of  the  situation. 


334  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"There  are  things  you  don't  know,  Ariadne  —  loath- 
some, slimy  things  that  never  should  have  come  near 
you.  It  was  an  evil  day  for  Allan  Water  when  your 
father  brought  that  poor,  silly  creature  to  it." 

"She  is  silly,  Cousin  Nellie,  but  she  has  never  been 
anything  worse  than  silly.  She  has  always  been  good 
to  me  in  her  own  way.  I  think  she  loves  me  and  has 
always  needed  me,  though,  of  course,  her  idol,  her  one 
dominant  passion,  is  that  dreadful  man." 

"How  has  he  treated  you,  Ariadne?" 

The  girl  shuddered.  "Don't  ask  me,;  I  can't  bear  to 
think  of  him.  At  least  he  has  never  resented  my  being 
with  them." 

"If  he  knew  that  his  bread  and  butter  depended  on 
it,  how  could  he?"  said  Cousin  Nellie  bluntly. 

"He  hasn't  always  known.  From  the  first  Donna 
kept  things  from  him.  Only  since  this  illness  he  has 
learned  that  she  can't  leave  all  the  money  to  him." 

Cousin  Nellie  bridled.  "As  if  your  father,  even  in 
his  infatuation  for  that  feeble  Donna  Mayrant,  could 
tie  you  to  her  for  life  and  then  disinherit  you  after ! 
The  man  must  be  a  fool ! " 

"I  don't  think  him  a  fool,"  said  the  girl  in  a  low  voice ; 
"but  I  know  him  to  be  as  wicked  a  man  as  ever  lived." 

"A  villain  is  always  more  or  less  of  a  fool,  simply 
because  evil  never  works  out  to  the  end.  A  smash  is 
always  bound  to  come,  and  it  is  then  that  decent  people 
have  a  struggle  against  their  own  decency  —  not  to  be 
too  glad.  But  you  are  right,  my  dear ;  he  is  about  as 
bad  as  they  are  made,  and  when  his  —  his  wife  gets  over 
this  trouble  of  hers,  I  think  we'll  find  a  way  of  getting 
him  out  of  her  life  —  and  yours  —  forever." 

"You  don't  realize  his  power,  Cousin  Nellie.  There  is 
nothing  —  absolutely  nothing  —  that  you  or  any  one 


ARIADNE  OF   ALLAN  WATER  335 

else  could  do  to  keep  her  from  him  if  he  chose  to  beckon 
to  her." 

"You  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,  child. 
There  are  certain  things  that  the  most  abject  of  women 
wouldn't  put  up  with."  She  spoke  vehemently,  but 
even  in  the  speaking  a  fear  touched  her  that  Ariadne 
was  right.  "At  least  you  shall  not  be  allowed  to  remain 
with  such  people,"  she  added,  and  this  time  her  lips 
closed  with  a  determination  that  showed  the  intensity 
of  the  resolve. 

"Nothing  can  be  done  just  now,  at  any  rate,"  said 
the  girl.  "Oh,  Cousin  Nellie,  don't  let's  talk  of  them 
any  more.  I  was  just  beginning  to  feel  clean  again." 

"Well,  we  won't,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  patting  the  en- 
treating hand  upon  her  arm.  "  Besides,  there's  something 
very  special  I  want  to  ask  about."  Her  eyes  brightened, 
and  she  looked  directly  at  the  girl,  with  a  certain  mis- 
chief in  them  that  made  those  of  Ariadne  fall.  Her 
heart  gave  one  great  bound,  then  seemed  to  stand  still, 
quivering.  She  knew  what  name  would  next  be  spoken 

"What  did  you  think  of  Randy  Carr?"  Ariadne 
felt  the  hot  tide  of  blood  rush  into  her  drooping  face. 
Cousin  Nellie  gave  her  low,  delicious  chuckle.  "Isn't 
he  the  best  looking  thing  in  his  fashionable  clothes  ?  " 

Still  from  the  girl  no  answer. 

"The  Judge  and  I  told  him  that  he  would  probably 
run  across  you  —  as  he  did." 

"Yes,  at  the  Hague.     He  came  to  the  same  hotel." 

"You  must  have  enjoyed  meeting  some  one  so  re- 
cently from  home.  Anybody  would  have  seemed  good  — 
even  if  they  didn't  have  six  feet  of  Virginia  bone  and 
muscle  —  not  to  mention  brown  eyes  and  a  grin  like  a 
small  boy  caught  in  a  cherry  tree.  I  hope  Dick  Kyarter 
has  that  same  grin.  If  he'd  only  brush  his  teeth, 


336  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

though.  Dick,  I  mean,  not  Randy.  Randy's  are  the 
whitest  I  ever  saw  in  a  human  head  —  unless  it's  those 
of  the  little  nigger,  Anguish.  When  Anguish  meets  me 
at  the  station,  I  always  think  of  pop-corn,  popping 
suddenly  out  of  soot.  You  and  Randy  must  have  had 
some  wonderful  long  talks  together." 

"We  did,"  said  Ariadne,  "but  then  this  sickness  of 
Donna's  came  —  and  we  had  to  come  away." 

"What  puzzles  me,"  went  on  Cousin  Nellie,  her  shrewd 
eyes  watching  the  changing  expressions  on  the  young 
face,  "is  why,  after  all  that  cabling  and  his  evident 
intention  of  meeting  us  here  in  London,  he  suddenly 
took  a  steamer  and  rushed  back  home." 

"Has  he  gone  back  home  ?" 

"Yes,  didn't  you  know  it?  He  may  be  landing  in 
New  York  to-day.  It  was  one  of  the  fast  steamers, 
the  Olympic,  I  believe." 

"They  did  fall  in  love  just  as  I  thought  they  would, 
and  there  has  been  a  lovers'  quarrel,"  was  the  elder 
woman's  inward  guess. 

"I'll  tell  you  the  truth,  Cousin  Nellie,"  said  the  girl. 
"I  want  you  to  see  that  I  can't  talk  of  Randolph,  either. 
At  first  we  were  good  friends.  He  talked  of  home,  and 
I  was  very  happy  in  our  friendship.  But  in  a  little 
while  —  something  happened  to  change  it  —  I  dis- 
appointed him.  He  became  very  angry.  He  never 
wants  to  see  me  again." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  rose  to  the  other's  lips,  but 
she  held  the  words  back.  Whatever  the  silly  misunder- 
standing, Cousin  Nellie  saw  that  to  Ariadne  it  was  final. 
All  the  light  went  from  the  girl's  face.  She  moved 
restlessly.  Cousin  Nellie  rose,  the  girl  following  quickly. 

"We  must  go  down  now.  It  is  luncheon  time," 
said  Mrs.  Henry.  "You  needn't  change  anything  for 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  337 

lunch,  Ariadne.  That's  one  of  the  good  things  about 
this  hotel.  You  can  wear  anything  you  please.  I  must 
go  first  and  see  if  Richard  Kyarter  Junior  is  at  large  and 
make  him  wash  his  hands." 

They  went  down  rather  silently.  Mrs.  Henry  found 
herself  puzzled  and  not  a  little  distressed,  by  Ariadne's 
avoidance  of  Randy  Carr's  name.  It  was  incredible/ 
that  she  had  really  offended  him,  unless  in  the  one  way 
of  rejected  love.  There  had  scarcely  been  time  for  court- 
ship —  even  from  so  spirited  a  youth  as  Carr.  The 
kindly  woman  felt  by  instinct  that,  even  were  love  a  part 
of  it,  the  breaking  of  the  friendship  had  a  deeper  and 
more  painful  cause.  Being  possessed  of  tact,  as  well  as 
intuition,  she  resolved  to  say  no  more  about  it,  at  least 
until  she  had  had  time  to  reason. 

They  went  directly  to  the  portico.  Just  as  they 
reached  it,  the  boy,  still  at  his  mischievous  employment, 
leaned  over  an  inch  too  far  and  gave  a  perilous  lurch. 
Mrs.  Henry,  with  a  stifled  shriek,  clutched  at  his  Eton 
jacket. 

"You,  Dick  Kyarter,"  she  cried,  when  he  was  back 
into  safety,  "you'll  fall  over  there  and  break  your  neck." 

A  series  of  feminine  shrieks  from  the  pavement  below, 
cries  of  :  "  My  word,  it's  one  of  them  American  terrors  ! " 
bespoke  a  fresh  success  for  the  small  boy.  A  suffragette, 
standing  at  the  corner  selling  papers,  and  a  tall,  blue- 
clad  "Bobby"  stared  toward  the  portico. 

"Now,  look  here,  Dick,  this  has  got  to  stop,"  said 
the  mother.  She  leaned  beside  him,  pulling  up  the 
realistic  viper.  "  That  policeman  has  his  eye  on  you, 
and  he'll  be  taking  you  to  jail  next.  Then  how 
would  mother  feel  having  you  shut  up  with  all  the 
suffragettes  ?  " 

Dick  opposed  the  withdrawal  of  his  toy,  but  his 


338  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

struggle  was  a  mere  feint.  The  sight  of  the  policeman 
had  sobered  him. 

"Here's  your  cousin  Ariadne,  Dick.  Is  your  hand 
fit  to  offer  anybody  ?  "  Dick  turned  his  scowling,  hand- 
some face  to  Ariadne.  The  sight  of  her  smile  softened 
him,  and  he  glanced  at  his  very  dirty  hands. 

"Never  mind  dirt,"  said  the  girl,  "I'm  going  to  hug 
you,  even  if  you  are  such  a  big  boy.  You've  grown  so 
big  I  never  should  have  known  you.  How  old  are  you 
now,  Dick  Carter  ?  " 

"Nine,  goin'  on  ten,"  said  Dick  glibly,  though  in  a 
tone  which  showed  that  he  was  bored. 

Ariadne  flashed  a  look  at  Mrs.  Henry.  "He  is  a  per- 
fect darling,"  she  whispered. 

"He's  a  limb  of  Satan,"  observed  the  beaming  mother, 
more  audibly.  "Now,  Dick,  we  must  be  going  in  to 
luncheon;  you  had  better  brush  up  a  little.  Let  me 
see  your  hands."  The  child  looked  sulky,  then  held 
forth  two  objects  that  might  have  been  grimy  starfish. 

"  Good  gracious !  I  should  think  they  did  need 
washing  !  Well,  come  along ;  mother  will  help  you  get 
the  dirt  off.  You  shall  have  some  of  my  nice  sweet 
soap."  She  took  her  small  son  by  the  arm  and  had 
started  indoors,  when  he  wrenched  himself  away  with 
a  shriek:  "Gee!  There's  a  man  with  chewing  gum." 
He  dashed  down  the  steps,  running  full  tilt  into  an 
English  ecclesiastic,  and  then  out  upon  the  crowded 
pavement,  pushing  and  forging  his  way  until  he  stood 
before  a  lad  who  carried  a  shallow  tray  strapped  to 
his  shoulders.  His  stock  in  trade  was  a  heap  of  small 
pink  packages  of  a  well-known  American  make  of  gum. 
A  white  banner  descended  from  the  tray  and  on  it  was 
printed  boldly :  "Try  it,  id.  a  stick.  Everybody's  chew- 
ing it,  chewing  it  —  chewing  it !" 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  339 

"Rather  progressive  for  England,"  said  Cousin  Nellie, 
with  a  laugh. 

"Dickie's  a  perfect  darling,"  said  Ariadne,  "and  he's 
better  looking  than  ever." 

"Yes,  he  has  that  bronze  coloring  and  the  bright  eyes 
of  the  Randolphs.  Judge  Henry's  mother  was  a  Ran- 
dolph, you  know.  Don't  you  think  Dick  is  a  good 
deal  like  Randy  Carr?" 

Ariadne  murmured  something. 

"There's  nothing  really  bad  about  Dick  Kyarter," 
went  on  Mrs.  Henry,  enlarging  on  her  dearest  theme, 
"only  he's  so  quick  and  active  that  he's  always  in  mis- 
chief. When  I  first  saw  this  hotel  and  those  two  ponds 
out  in  the  square  in  front  of  it,  I  was  simply  frantic. 
I  knew  that  Dick  Kyarter  would  manage  to  get  drowned 
in  one  of  them.  Of  course  Judge  Henry  laughed.  He 
always  does.  He  tried  to  argue  with  me,  but  I  wouldn't 
have  it.  'You  needn't  tell  me  again  about  your  father 
and  mother's  honeymoon,'  I  said.  'It's  nothing  to  me 
if  all  your  ancestors  back  to  Adam  stopped  at  the  Morley. 
What  would  be  the  use  of  it,  anyway,  if  you  brought 
their  only  descendant  here  to  be  drowned?'  Where 
is  Judge  Henry,  by  the  way  ?  I  don't  dare  to  leave  this 
porch  until  that  awful  child  gets  back.  Will  you  go 
into  the  coffee-room,  Ariadne?  It's  there  to  the  right. 
You  just  keep  going  till  you  stop  —  down  that  dark 
passage  that  looks  like  a  rope-walk.  When  you  see  a 
group  of  silent,  human  creatures,  both  men  and  women, 
sitting  about,  all  looking  as  if  they  had  just  viewed  the 
corpse,  you'll  know  you've  reached  an  English  coffee- 
room.  Then  go  up  to  the  biggest  newspaper  being  held 
up  in  the  air,  and  behind  it  you  will  find  Judge  Henry.'* 

This  description  was  no  more  graphic  than  it  proved 
truthful.  Judge  Henry  was  soon  found,  and  the  little 


340  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

party  —  Dick  having  had  his  starfish  scoured  —  went 
in  to  their  luncheon. 

"Cold  meats,"  murmured  Mrs.  Henry,  as  she  took 
up  the  menu.  "I  should  say  there  were  cold  meats. 
There  is  a  long  table  full  of  them  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  There's  the  preacher  and  his  wife  walking  round 
and  round  it,  looking  to  see  what  they  want  to  eat. 
What  bad  manners  !  I'm  glad  it  was  the  preacher 
and  not  his  wife  Dick  butted  into  on  the  steps.  All 
that  jet  stuff  of  hers  might  have  cut  his  forehead ;  but 
the  parson  was  nice  and  soft.  One  hot  dish  —  from  a 
joint,  it  says,"  reverting  to  the  menu.  "I  wonder  what 
sort  of  a  joint.  So  many  things  have  joints  —  and  after 
that,  stewed  fruit  and  custard.  Rather  slim  pickings 
ior  a  whole  meal,  it  seems  to  me."  She  threw  down  the 
<:ard. 

"In  contrast  with  your  own  table,  it  is  rather  meager," 
said  the  Judge,  "but  I  daresay  we  can  get  enough 
to  sustain  us.  Shall  I  order  ?" 

"Please,"  said  Ariadne  and  Nellie  in  a  breath. 

"  I  wish  I  was  home,"  announced  Dick  Carter  abruptly. 

Ariadne  gave  him  a  sympathetic  smile.  Yes,  he  was 
like  Randy.  His  brown  hair  grew  upon  the  temples 
just  that  way,  and  the  dark,  straight  brows  —  she  had 
seen  other  brows  that  drew  together  when  something 
had  gone  wrong  —  deepening  into  shadow  the  sparkle 
of  hazel  eyes. 

It  was  a  delightful  meal.  The  Judge  had  had  the  good 
fortune  to  preempt  a  table  that  stood  quite  exclusively 
in  the  jutting  corner  of  the  second  story  room.  From 
the  windows  they  could  look  out  upon  the  crowded  life 
of  the  square :  the  thousand  pedestrians  hurrying  on 
various  ways,  delivery  wagons,  motors,  bicycles,  ped- 
dlers' carts,  and  the  huge,  dominating  omnibuses,  packed 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  341 

closely  within  and  set  thick  on  top  with  rosy-faced, 
English  folk  who  preferred  the  sun  and  air. 

From  the  narrow  Strand,  from  Whitehall,  Victoria, 
Pall  Mall,  and  a  dozen  lesser  streets,  the  tide  of  traffic 
and  humanity  flowed  inward,  emptying  and  rilling  so 
evenly  that  the  moving  surface  had  no  eddies  of  pause. 
There  was  no  whizzing  and  clanging  of  electric  cars, 
only  the  reverberating  roar  of  wheels,  and  the  sharp, 
nasal  warning  of  motor  horns. 

"What  I  wish,"  said  Cousin  Nellie,  "is  that  I  had 
sense  enough  to  stop  looking  out  of  the  window.  It 
makes  me  dizzy,  yet  I  can't  stop." 

"There  ain't  nothin'  to  look  at,"  grumbled  young 
Richard,  scowling  upon  the  unconscious  omnibuses. 

"Oh,  Dick  Kyarter,  where  do  you  get  your  gram- 
mar?" his  mother  exclaimed. 

"He  doesn't,"  said  Judge  Henry. 

"Why,  Dickie,  don't  you  like  the  splendid  big  city?" 
asked  Ariadne,  partly  to  divert  reproof. 

"Naw!"  said  the  boy,  "it's  nothin'  but  people  and 
dirty  houses.  There  ain't  any  street-cars,  or  soda- 
water  fountains,  or  pop-corn  or  nothin'.  I've  only 
been  to  a  movin'  picture  once." 

"Never  mind,  if  I  can  be  here  for  a  few  days,  I'll 
get  you  to  take  me  to  lots  and  lots  of  them.  I  love  them, 
too." 

Dick  Carter  turned  and  for  the  first  time  regarded 
her  with  interest. 

"Will  you,  honest?" 

"Honest  —  cross  my  heart,"  said  Ariadne,  performing 
with  solemnity  that  mystic  rite.  At  last  his  brown 
eyes  sparkled  and  the  grin  came.  "Why  don't  you  live 
with  us  now?" 

"Oh,  Dickie,  I'd  love  it,"  she  answered,  in  a  voice 


342  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

which  for  once  and  all  made  the  boy  her  friend.  As 
she  noted  the  lovely  smile  on  the  girl's  face,  Cousin 
Nellie  asked  herself:  "Is  that  all  for  Dickie,  or  is  she 
thinking  of  another  pair  of  brown  eyes?" 

" Speaking  of  shows,"  put  in  Judge  Henry,  "how  would 
you  girls  like  to  take  on  a  matinee  ?" 

Ariadne  gave  a  little  cry  of  pleasure.  "I  haven't 
been  in  an  English  theater  for  years  and  years.  It 
would  be  such  a  treat  to  hear  the  people  on  the  stage 
speaking  my  own  language." 

"Then  that's  settled,"  said  Cousin  Nellie  in  her  de- 
cisive way. 

"  Muddie,  can't  I  go  too  ?"  asked  Dick. 

"Now,  Dick  Kyarter,  you  are  very  young  for  regular 
theaters,"  that  lady  began,  but  Ariadne,  interrupting 
quickly,  put  her  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder,  and  looking 
at  her  cousin  said  :  "Please,  for  my  sake,  Cousin  Nellie." 

"Well,  for  your  sake,  Ariadne,"  said  Mrs.  Henry, 
trying  to  look  disapproving. 

"Never  was  concession  made  more  cheerfully," 
remarked  the  Judge,  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  his 
own  pleasure  was  quite  plain. 

"I'd  a  heap  rather  it  was  a  movin'  picture,"  growled 
the  object  of  all  this  satisfaction. 

In  the  theater,  under  the  spell  of  the  lights  and  the 
charming  costumes  and  the  singing,  Ariadne  felt  herself 
to  be  much  more  of  a  child  than  Dickie.  The  Judge, 
delighting  in  her  pleasure,  bought  her  boxes  of  bon-bons, 
which  she  eagerly  shared  with  the  boy,  and  kept  her 
laughing  even  when  the  comedy  actors  were  off  the 
stage  by  his  quaint,  humorous  remarks.  The  girl  was 
sorry  when  the  curtain  fell  and  Cousin  Nellie  began  to 
put  on  her  veil. 

Although  it  was  nearly  six  o'clock,  the  Strand  was 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  343 

brimming  with  sunlight  when  they  emerged  from  the 
dusky  foyer.  The  world  of  fairyland  had  vanished  at  a 
touch.  The  people  in  the  street  seemed  sordid  and 
oppressed  with  care.  Even  the  old  omnibuses  tottered, 
as  if  weary  of  incessant  burdens. 

"  Shall  we  stop  somewhere  for  tea  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Henry. 

"No,"  replied  Ariadne,  not  waiting  for  the  others. 
"I  must  get  back  to  the  hotel  where  I  can  telephone  and 
ask  about  Donna.  I  haven't  done  it  once,  and  I  prom- 
ised to  call  up  every  hour." 

"Yes,  we  will  go  home,"  said  Judge  Henry.  The 
reaction  had  apparently  come  to  all.  Even  Dick  Carter 
walked  without  comment  past  a  cinema  gallery  that 
displayed  alluring  pictures  of  cowboys  and  Red  Indians 
in  combat. 

As  they  reached  the  Morley,  Ariadne  said,  "I  must 
telephone  at  once,  before  going  to  my  room."  They 
all  waited  until  a  porter  had  made  communication  with 
the  Nursing  Home  and  ushered  Ariadne  into  the  small 
box.  She  came  out  in  a  few  moments,  her  face  very 
pale. 

"She  is  no  worse  at  present.  Mr.  Martel  is  with  her. 
But  they  must  have  the  operation  almost  at  once. 
They  have  set  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  for  it.  I  must  be 
there." 

"Of  course,  and  I'll  be  with  you,"  said  Cousin  Nellie, 
drawing  the  girl's  arm  through  hers. 

Ariadne  clung  to  her  gratefully.  "Oh,  it  does  seem 
horrible  to  think  of  it  being  so  near,"  she  said,  shuddering. 

"If  an  operation  is  necessary,  you  can't  get  through 
with  it  too  soon,"  said  Cousin  Nellie.  "And  now, 
honey,  you  must  have  a  little  rest  in  your  own  room. 
I'm  afraid  there  won't  be  any  more  frolicking  for  us 
to-night." 


344          ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"No  — no,"  said  the  girl,  "I  shan't  be  able  to  think 
of  a  thing  but  poor  Donna ;  but  oh,"  she  cried,  turning 
again  to  her  cousin,  "you  don't  know  what  it  means  to 
me,  having  you  near  me  at  such  a  time  ! " 

"Well,  I'm  here,"  said  Cousin  Nellie  cheerfully, 
"and  there's  a  good  deal  of  me,  too." 

"And  it's  all  of  the  purest  gold,"  said  Judge  Henry 
softly,  putting  his  hand  for  a  moment  on  his  wife's 
silk-clad  shoulder. 

That  night,  in  their  own  room,  with  both  young 
charges  tucked  away,  Mrs.  Henry  went  up  to  her 
husband.  He  had  been  standing  waiting  for  her  at 
their  sitting-room  window.  She  leaned  against  him 
a  little  more  helplessly  than  was  her  usual  independent 
way,  and  as  he  put  an  arm  about  her,  he  said,  in  that 
voice  of  complete  understanding  which  belongs  to  those 
who  are  happily  married:  "Is  it  about  Ariadne,  my 
dear?" 

She  gave  a  long  sigh,  at  first  tremulous,  then  breaking 
with  impatience.  "Of  course  it  is  Ariadne  —  but  even 
more :  it  is  the  incredible  injustice  of  things,"  she  replied. 
"When  I  look  at  that  child  with  the  face  of  an  imprisoned 
angel,  when  I  think  of  the  way  she's  been  dragged  around 
at  the  cart-tail  of  a  knave  and  a  fool,  and  how  sweet, 
how  uncomplaining,  how  wonderful  she's  been  through  it 
all,  it  seems  to  me  that  I've  just  got  to  go  out  and  fight 
somebody." 

"I'm  glad  that  at  least  you  think  of  going  out  for  the 
purpose,  else  your  Richard  and  I  might  be  in  danger. 
But  seriously,  dear,  I  do  not  mean  to  speak  flippantly ; 
I  realize  it  all  as  you  do.  It  is  a  miracle  that  she  has 
remained  so  exquisite  —  the  old  Buddhist  idea  of  the 
white  lotos  rising  through  slime.  I  have  faith  to  believe, 
however,  that  her  bondage  will  soon  be  at  an  end.  The 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  345 

shadow  of  death  is  on  that  poor,  ailing  tyrant  now; 
she  will  not  survive  an  operation." 

"I  hope  not/'  said  Mrs.  Henry  viciously. 

"My  dear!"  expostulated  the  Judge,  drawing  back 
in  genuine  dismay. 

"Well,  if  you  can't  speak  your  mind  out  to  your  own 
husband,  what's  the  good  of  having  married,  anyway?" 
said  Mrs.  Henry,  defiantly.  "You  know  you  hope  she 
dies  —  and  if  the  poor  soul  knew  what  was  in  store  for 
her,  she'd  wish  it,  too.  As  for  Ariadne  -  '  here  she 
gave  a  long  pause —  "There's  more  than  one  kind 
of  bondage." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  Nellie." 

"Of  course  you  don't;  that's  why  I  keep  up  your  in- 
terest. But  I'm  tired  now;  I  must  get  to  bed.  To- 
morrow is  going  to  be  a  pretty  strenuous  day  for  all 
of  us." 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  was  well  towards  noon,  several  days  later,  when  Mrs. 
Henry,  in  the  role  of  a  very  modern  ministering  angel,  a 
tray  in  one  hand  and  a  small  scourge  of  common  sense 
in  the  other,  walked  down  the  hotel  passages  and  stopped 
at  Ariadne's  door. 

Seeing  that  it  was  not  locked,  she  pushed  it  aside  and 
entered.  Things  were  much  as  she  had  expected  to 
find  them.  Both  green  shades  were  down,  and  what 
daylight  managed  to  filter  through  diffused  itself  in  a 
chill,  cavernous  gloom. 

Across  the  white  bed  lay  a  slim  black  figure,  face 
downward.  A  small  marble  stand  stood  at  the  nearer 
side,  and  upon  this  Mrs.  Henry  set  the  tray,  taking  care 
to  make  a  sharp,  metallic  sound  in  doing  so.  The 
figure  on  the  bed  did  not  move  !  Mrs.  Henry  looked 
down  upon  the  inky  silhouette  for  a  moment,  opened 
her  lips  to  speak,  decided  against  it,  and  then  in  her 
buoyant  yet  determined  way,  crossed  to  the  windows, 
pulling  up  both  shades. 

As  she  came  back  to  Ariadne,  she  could  see  that  the 
girl  was  fully  dressed.  Two  small,  black-shod  feet  hung 
a  little  over  the  far  edge  of  the  bed.  Her  figure,  always 
slender,  was  a  mere  strip  of  shadow  in  the  unrelieved 
blackness  of  her  present  garb.  Her  right  arm  was 
thrown  upward,  with  the  elbow  bent,  and  in  this  hollow 
her  face  lay  hidden.  Nothing  was  visible  but  the  great 
loops  and  folds  of  her  shining  hair. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  347 

Mrs.  Henry  took  her  seat  near  this  downcast  fleece 
of  gold. 

"Now,  look  here,  Ariadne,"  she  began,  "this  sort  of 
thing  can't  go  on.  It's  all  very  well  to  be  sorry  about 
poor  Donna's  death  and  to  show  her  the  respect  of 
mourning.  But  somebody's  got  to  think  of  you,  too. 
You  can't  spend  the  rest  of  your  life  stuck  up  here  in  a 
hotel  room,  weeping  and  crying  your  eyes  out." 

"I  haven't  been  crying,  Cousin  Nellie,"  answered 
the  girl  in  her  natural  voice.  She  turned  in  speaking, 
drew  her  slim  figure  up  along  the  bed,  and  reaching  out 
for  a  pillow,  propped  herself  against  it.  The  light  came 
now  full  on  her  face.  When  Mrs.  Henry  saw  the  hope- 
less expression  and  the  circles  of  weariness  about  the 
great,  tearless  eyes,  she  could  not  help  thinking  that  to 
weep  would  be  better  than  this  emotionless  despair. 

"Then  you  are  doing  worse  than  crying,"  Mrs.  Henry 
went  on;  "you  are  brooding,  and  getting  yourself 
into  a  half  dead-and-alive  condition  of  mind  that  can't 
do  anybody  good.  You've  got  too  much  sense  to  wish 
the  poor  soul  back  in  the  world.  She  could  never  have 
been  a  well  woman  again  —  the  doctor  told  you  that  — 
and  she  went  out  of  life  without  a  fear." 

"They  never  let  her  dream  she  couldn't  get  well," 
mused  Ariadne ;  "oh,  but  I  was  glad  of  that.  She  was 
so  utterly  contented  to  the  very  last.  It  was  wonderful 
for  her  to  —  to  go  that  way,  happy,  and  believing  that 
everything  was  going  to  turn  out  right ! " 

"Of  course  it  was  wonderful ;  she  went  out  in  a  blaze 
of  glory,  so  to  speak.  Even  that  creature  she  thought 
she  was  married  to  showed  up  well,  though  I  must  say 
it  sickened  me  with  indignation  and  pity  to  see  that 
look  of  ecstasy  in  her  eyes  as  he  kissed  her.  And  then 
those  sheaves  of  lilies  that  he  sent !  Poor  wretch,  he 


348  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

has  certainly  lost  out.  But  I'm  thankful  he's  out  of 
your  life  forever." 

"Has  anything  been  heard  of  him  since?"  asked 
Ariadne  in  a  low  voice. 

Mrs.  Henry  gave  a  little  "tchut"  of  contempt. 

"Has  it  ?  The  Judge  has  had  to  ask  the  hotel  manager 
to  let  him  use  a  back  door  in  order  to  avoid  the  man. 
There  were  notes,  telephone  calls,  and  telegrams  every 
hour  for  a  day  or  two.  I  believe,  however,  he  has  given 
up  the  attempt  now." 

Ariadne  said  nothing.  She  was  glad  to  turn  her  mind 
from  a  subject  so  entirely  loathsome.  She  stared  out  of 
the  window,  and  the  look  of  dark  brooding  returned. 
Apparently  she  forgot  that  her  cousin  was  near. 

"Ariadne!"  cried  that  worthy  soul,  taking  the  girl 
by  the  shoulder  and  giving  her  an  impatient  shake. 
"You've  simply  got  to  stop  this  hookworm  stare.  It 
is  uncanny.  Now  you  just  sit  up  and  drink  some  of 
this  hot  milk  and  eat  the  toast  I've  brought  you.  The 
maid  says  you  never  touched  your  breakfast.  It's 
perfectly  absurd  for  you  to  go  on  like  this.  If  that 
feeble  creature  had  been  your  own  father  and  mother 
in  one,  you  couldn't  look  more  woebegone.  You've 
sacrificed  seven  years  of  life  to  her;  you've  sacrificed 
everything  a  girl  ought  to  have,  so  that  she  could  give 
your  father's  money  to  that  brute.  You've  more  than 
done  your  duty  by  everybody  —  and  now  is  the  time  to 
take  up  life  for  yourself.  Everything  is  before  you. 
No  rational  being  can  think  for  a  minute  that  you  ever 
really  loved  your  stepmother." 

Ariadne  sat  up  in  bed,  reaching  out  one  hand  for  the 
milk.  "I  will  try  to  drink  it  if  you  want  me  to,  Cousin 
Nellie,"  she  said  passively.  "No,  I  don't  suppose  I 
could  really  love  Donna  in  the  way  you  mean.  But  I've 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  349 

been  so  close  to  her  for  all  these  years.  I've  had  nobody 
else.  She  needed  me,  and  I  know  she  loved  me  in  her 
own  fashion.  I  —  I  suppose  the  shock  of  it  all  —  the 
suddenness  when  I  thought  she  was  getting  well  —  and 
then  the  horror  —  I  can't  get  away  from  - 

She  paused  and  set  down  the  milk  without  tasting  it. 
The  wide-eyed,  vacant  stare  came  back.  "For  her  to 
be  out  there  in  an  English  cemetery  —  and  no  friends 
near  —  just  those  strange  names  all  about  her  —  and 
for  us  to  go  away  and  leave  her  there.  I  tell  you, 
Cousin  Nellie,  it  is  horrible.  Don't  you  see  it  is  ?" 

Mrs.  Henry  got  to  her  feet;  one  might  almost  say 
she  stamped.  "Drink  that  milk,  Ariadne  Skipwith. 
Really,  you  exasperate  me.  All  that  sort  of  talk  is 
pure  rubbish.  Where  on  earth  should  she  be?  She's 
got  no  near  relatives.  The  few  she  had  were  glad 
enough  to  get  rid  of  her.  As  far  as  I  can  make  out,  she 
never  had  a  friend  but  you,  and  I  suppose  that  even  you 
wouldn't  care  to  have  her  over  in  the  Skipwith  burying- 
ground  beside  your  own  mother." 

Ariadne  flushed  under  the  sharp  strokes.  "No,  no, 
I  suppose  I  wouldn't,"  she  murmured. 

"Drink  that  milk." 

Ariadne  swallowed  quickly. 

"Now  eat  some  toast." 

The  girl  looked  despairingly  at  the  charred  crusts. 

"Never  mind  how  it  looks.  You're  not  a  suffragette 
on  a  hunger-strike.  I  came  here  to  talk  over  some 
plans  of  our  own.  There's  no  discussing  things  with  a 
rag  doll." 

Ariadne  sighed,  but  managed  to  dispose  of  the  toast. 

Cousin  Nellie's  complacency  returned.  She  came 
back  to  the  bed,  taking  her  former  seat  upon  it.  "Now 
you're  acting  like  a  rational  being.  Judge  Henry  has 


350  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

gone  this  morning  to  the  steamship  offices  to  secure 
berths  for  America." 

Ariadne  had  started  on  a  new  piece  of  toast  and  could 
not  speak. 

"Let  me  see,"  Cousin  Nellie  went  on,  putting  her  head 
on  one  side  and  beginning  to  count  on  her  somewhat 
pudgy  pink  fingers,  "this  is  Wednesday  —  Thursday  — 
Friday  —  a  good  fast  steamer  leaves  Saturday  morning. 
He's  going  to  try  for  that.  It  won't  leave  us  any  too 
much  time.  Now  how  about  your  packing?" 

Ariadne  looked  round  the  room.  Her  steamer  trunk, 
perched  in  the  English  way  upon  a  carpet-covered  folding 
stand,  was  in  plain  sight.  She  continued  to  look  about 
until,  in  a  more  distant  corner,  she  saw  her  larger  trunk. 

"Yes,  both  my  trunks  are  here.  When  did  they  send 
them?" 

"'They'  didn't,"  remarked  Mrs.  Henry  with  meaning. 
"  The  Judge  had  a  Morley  porter  go  for  them.  None  of 
your  stepmother's  things,  not  even  her  jewels,  have 
appeared." 

"I  don't  want  them.  I  hope  he  will  keep  them," 
cried  the  girl. 

"Don't  worry,  he  will,"  said  the  other.  "Now, 
Ariadne,  since  you  are  beginning  to  look  more  like  a  girl 
and  less  like  a  piece  of  biscuit  dough,  there  is  something 
else  I  want  to  suggest." 

"Yes,  Cousin  Nellie?"  But  the  suggestion  was  not 
made,  for  just  as  the  girl  rose  from  the  bed  and  stood 
waiting  for  the  next  words,  a  knock  sounded. 

Mrs.  Henry  reached  the  door  first.  Ariadne  heard 
the  bell-boy  say:  "The  gentleman  wants  an  answer." 
Mrs.  Henry  came  back,  reading  the  superscription  with 
a  frown.  The  note  was  sealed.  Without  comment,  she 
handed  it  to  Ariadne. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  351 

"For  me,"  cried  the  girl,  "who  could  have-  But 
as  her  fingers  touched  the  missive,  she  knew.  There 
was  but  one  living  being  who  had  the  power  to  inspire  this 
uncontrollable  shudder  of  fear  and  disgust. 

"I  can  imagine,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  with  compressed 
lips. 

Ariadne  read  through  the  few  lines  and  handed  the 
note  to  her  cousin. 

"  ARIADNE  :  Whatever  may  be  your  shrinking 
from  me  —  and  no  matter  how  I  may  deserve  it  —  I 
implore  you  now,  as  a  last  service  to  the  one  you 
loved  and  who  is  now  at  peace,  to  grant  me  an  in- 
terview. I  shall  not  keep  you  long.  What  I  must 
say  is  rather  for  the  sake  of  Donna  than  myself.  My 
face  is  in  the  dust.  I  have  lost  and  you  have  gained 
everything.  Is  this  much  to  ask  that  you  grant  a  con- 
demned victim  the  right  to  say  a  few  words  ?  Remem- 
ber that  it  is  in  Donna's  name  that  I  plead.  Before 
God  I  swear  that  if  her  devoted  spirit  could  know  how 
desperately  I  need  to  speak  with  you,  she  would  add 
her  supplication  to  mine. 

"  CONSTANTINE    MARTEL." 

Mrs.  Henry  flung  down  the  letter.  Her  cheeks 
burned  with  indignation.  "The  idea  !  Of  course  you 
won't  see  him.  A  creature  that  doesn't  even  sign  his 
own  name.  I'll  have  the  servants  turn  him  out."  She 
was  moving  quickly  to  the  door,  when  Ariadne  called 
out  sharply  :  "  Stop,  Cousin  Nellie,  don't  turn  him  away. 
I  must  see  him  !" 

"Well!"  gasped  Mrs.  Henry,  leaning  against  the 
steamer  trunk. 

"  If  you  will  go  with  me,  no  harm  can  possibly  come  of 


352  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

it.  And  it  is,  as  he  says,  the  very  last  thing  I  can  do 
for  Donna.  Please  don't  be  angry  with  me,  Cousin 
Nellie." 

"You're  a  pigeon,  a  regular  easy  mark.  You  ought 
to  have  a  keeper,  Ariadne,"  said  Mrs.  Henry.  "But 
if  you're  bent  on  seeing  him,  I  can't  prevent  you."  Open- 
ing the  door,  she  said  sharply :  "Show  the  man  into  my 
private  sitting-room,  number  twenty-seven  on  the 
second  floor." 

Ariadne  sank  back  on  the  bed  an  instant,  closing  her 
eyes.  "Don't  think  I  want  to.  It  is  torture  to  me, 
just  being  in  the  room  with  him.  You  don't  know  - 
But  when  I  think  of  Donna  lying  there  in  a  bed  of  his 
white  lilies,  her  poor  face  so  peaceful,  because,  at  the 
last,  he  had  been  kind  —  oh,  I  must,  Cousin  Nellie ;  it 
would  trouble  me  all  my  life  if  I  refused  —  for  her  sake." 

"Come  along,  then,  let's  have  it  over,"  said  Mrs. 
Henry  grimly.  "You  don't  have  to  fix  up." 

As  the  two  women  entered,  Cousin  Nellie  some  steps 
in  advance,  the  man  was  still  standing.  As  usual  he 
was  immaculately  dressed,  and  on  his  left  coat-sleeve 
was  an  unusually  wide  band  of  crepe.  He  held  his  hat 
and  stick  and  when  he  bowed  to  Mrs.  Henry,  made  no 
effort  to  shake  hands. 

Raising  his  head,  he  looked  full  at  Ariadne.  His 
face,  already  pale,  became  ghastly.  His  lips  quivered 
until  he  bit  them  fiercely ;  but  recovering  himself  in  a 
moment  he  gave  her,  too,  the  same  distant,  deferential 
bow. 

"Will  you  be  seated?"  said  Mrs.  Henry  stiffly, 
motioning  him  to  a  chair.  He  took  it,  laying  his  hat 
and  gloves  on  a  table  near.  Mrs.  Henry  drew  Ariadne 
down  beside  her  to  a  sofa,  then  looked  across  at  their 
visitor. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  353 

"My  young  cousin  thought  it  best  that  I  should  be 
with  her  during  the  interview  you  urged,"  she  said  in  a 
cold,  discouraging  tone. 

The  man  did  not  resent  it.  "Since,  then,  my  visit 
must  be  not  only  ceremonial,  but  brief,  I  shall  come  to 
the  point  at  once." 

"I  think  it  wise,"  observed  Mrs.  Henry. 

"  It  is  then  what  so  worldly  a  lady  as  yourself  may  have 
suspected :  to  throw  myself  upon  Miss  Skipwith's 
mercy  —  to  let  her  know  in  what  a  serious,  in  fact 
desperate  entanglement,  I  find  myself." 

"To  put  it  in  plain  English,  you've  come  to  beg  Miss 
Skip  with  for  money." 

For  the  first  time  the  man  winced.  His  long  lashes 
fell  in  order  to  hide  the  venomous  light  in  his  eyes. 

"Only  partially.  You,  who  know  Miss  Skipwith  so 
much  less  intimately  than  I  do,  have  not  yet  realized, 
perhaps,  that  her  standards  are  not  the  usual  ones  of  self- 
interest  and  greed." 

"You  are  giving  further  reasons  why  she  should  be 
protected,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  bridling  under  the  subtle 
insults. 

Her  indignation  gave  Martel  a  deeper  self-confidence. 

"In  the  affair  to  which  I  refer,"  he  went  on,  more  softly 
than  before,  "the  money  is  not  my  greatest  need.  I 
have  enemies,  bitter  enemies,  who  will  not  hesitate  to 
drag  into  a  legal  attack  the  good  name  of  the  wife  who 
has  just  been  taken  from  me.  It  is  upon  Ariadne's 
knowledge  of  my  wife's  utter  devotion  that  I  rely  - 

"I  am  a  lawyer's  wife,  and  I  may  as  well  tell  you  flatly 
and  frankly  that  what  you  are  now  proposing  is  black- 
mail —  nothing  more  or  less." 

"I  am  certain  that  to  Miss  Skipwith  it  will  not  appear 
in  so  harsh  a  light.  She  has  known  something  of  my 


354  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

financial  disasters,  and  my  appeal  for  assistance  is  made 
to  her  alone.  Being  independent  now,  and  in  sole  posses- 
sion of  her  father's  large  fortune,  she  can  act  entirely 
for  herself,  without  the  need  of  restraint  or  even  advice 
from  officious  relatives." 

Mrs.  Henry  bounced  upon  the  sofa.  Before  she  could 
utter  the  sharp  words  rising  to  her  lips,  Ariadne  had  put 
out  her  hands  for  silence. 

"Let  me  speak,  please.  I  think  you  ought  to  know, 
Mr.  Martel,  that  Judge  Henry  has  thought  it  best  to 
tell  me  of  your  troubles  and  of  this  lawsuit  that  has  been 
brought  against  you." 

"Thank  God  for  it !"  cried  the  man  in  more  normal 
tones  than  he  had  yet  used ;  "  then  you  know,  too,  that 
I  thought  myself  a  free  man  when  I  married  Donna  — 
and  it  has  been  the  continued  persecution  of  the  past 
few  years  that  has  made  me  at  times  like  a  madman. 
I  beg  you  to  believe,  Ariadne,  that  the  worst  I've  done  has 
been  under  the  pressure  of  this  horrible  fear.  I  couldn't 
tell  your  stepmother.  All  along  I  have  hoped  to  win 
against  this  —  my  former  wife  —  who  has  been  hounding 
me.  But  she  won  her  case.  She  makes  not  only  civil 
but  criminal  charges  against  me.  She  is  the  kind  of 
woman  who  will  stop  at  nothing.  Why,  she  is  in  this 
very  city,  with  her  sleuth  hounds  always  at  my  heels. 
They  probably  know  where  I  am  this  instant.  My  last 
hope  on  earth  lies  in  your  generosity.  If  I  cannot 
find  the  money  before  night,  she  will  take  my  pound  of 
flesh  —  and  the  blood  with  it.  She  will  —  oh,  God  !  - 
she  will  do  anything.  She  is  merciless  and  has  the 
power." 

Ariadne  was  shivering  under  the  torrent  of  his  passion- 
ate words.  Here,  for  the  first  time  perhaps,  she  had 
seen  the  man's  cringing  heart  laid  bare :  but  Mrs.  Henry, 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  355 

after  the  first  hurled  sentences,  had  begun  to  steel  herself. 
Her  voice  was  cold,  and  her  eyes  were  colder,  as  she  said 
to  him : 

"You  have  lived  on  this  girl's  young  life  for  seven 
evil  years.  Now  you  come  cringing  and  whining  to  her 
feet  for  more  money.  It  is  incredible  that  even  a  thing 
like  you  can  do  it." 

"I  tell  you  it's  not  the  money  only,"  cried  the  des- 
perate man.  "That  woman  can  send  me  to  hell.  If 
she  does,  the  papers  will  print  the  whole  horrible  story. 
All  England  and  America  will  know  that  I  continued 
to  live  with  Donna  when  I  knew  she  was  not  legally 
my  wife.  What  will  old-fashioned  Virginians  think 
when  they  hear  Ariadne  has  been  intimately  associated 
in  it?" 

"You  needn't  try  to  frighten  Miss  Skipwith,  nor  to 
desecrate  a  dead  woman,  Mr.  Patredis.  As  long  as 
Judge  Henry  and  I  have  life  in  our  bodies,  Ariadne  shall 
not  give  you  money." 

The  man  got  to  his  feet.  "Ariadne  is  a  free  agent. 
You  can't  stop  her  if  she  chooses  to  save  me  from  worse 
than  death  and  to  protect  her  stepmother's  good  name ; 
and  she  will  choose  —  I  know  her." 

"I  am  not  frightened,  Cousin  Nellie.  What  may  be 
said  of  me  is  nothing.  My  life  is  over  —  as  far  as  any 
possible  happiness  is  concerned.  You  know  what  I  feel 
toward  Mr.  —  Mr.  Martel." 

"Yes  —  yes  —  and  he  deserves  it  all,"  put  in  the  man 
passionately,  "only  help  me  now,  Ariadne.  I'll  pay  back 
the  money.  I'll  never  cross  your  path  again." 

"  But  I  can't  help  feeling,"  went  on  the  girl  tremulously, 
speaking  more  to  Cousin  Nellie  and  herself  than  to  him, 
"that  money  —  just  dead  money  —  means  so  little 
before  a  living  horror  like  this." 


356  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Oh,  yes,  Ariadne,  that  is  the  true  thing,"  the  man 
cried,  throwing  himself  at  the  girl's  feet. 

Mrs.  Henry  rose  with  an  exclamation  of  anger,  catching 
at  the  girl's  arm. 

"Come  away  from  this,  Ariadne.  I'm  not  going  to 
stand  by  and  see  you  robbed.  He  will  only  get  what  he 
deserves." 

"Ariadne  —  Ariadne  —  because  you  are  pure  and 
good  —  My  God  !  Have  mercy  —  "  the  man  prayed. 

Ariadne  did  not  rise.  For  once  the  man's  nearness 
did  not  repel  her.  The  terror  and  despair  of  this  abject 
soul  seemed  to  have  cleansed  it.  She  looked  straight 
before  her  —  over  the  bowed  head. 

"Good  heavens!  There's  somebody  at  the  door," 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Henry,  breaking  the  oppressive  silence. 
"Get  up  from  there,  Patredis.  If  it's  the  Judge,  he'll 
throttle  you." 

Before  the  man  could  rise,  the  door  was  flung  back,  and 
a  gay  voice  cried  :  "Just  as  I  thought !  My  little  Pat  is 
here  on  his  knees  before  the  heiress." 

Then,  throwing  her  handsome  head  backward,  she  said 
to  some  one  just  outside  the  door :  "You  needn't  come  in, 
Mitchell.  There  are  ladies  here.  Just  wait  down- 
stairs for  us." 

Mrs.  Henry  had  sunk  again  to  the  sofa  and  now 
seized  Ariadne's  left  hand  in  both  her  own.  The  man, 
staggering  backward,  fell  into  the  chair  he  had  va- 
cated. 

Mrs.  Patredis,  with  all  sails  spread,  swam  to  the  center 
of  the  room,  and  looked  with  interest  and  good-nature 
from  one  to  another  of  the  speechless  group.  Her  eyes 
finally  rested  on  Ariadne. 

"So  this  is  the  little  stepdaughter  that  Patredis  and 
his  second  wife  were  living  on  !"  She  laughed.  "Well, 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  357 

my  dear,  it  is  all  over  now,  and  I  guess  you've  put  on 
black  to  keep  from  looking  too  happy." 

It  needed  no  prod  from  Cousin  Nellie  to  get  the  girl  to 
her  feet.  She  rose  quickly,  her  chin  up,  her  white  throat 
gleaming  like  freshly  carved  ivory  against  the  black  folds 
encircling  it  and  her  eyes  level,  contemptuous,  incredible 
of  such  an  existence  as  the  one  just  thrust  upon  her,  were 
fixed  on  the  bold,  black,  sparkling  ones  of  Patredis'  wife. 

"Hold  on  just  a  minute,"  said  that  person.  "I  know 
I'm  not  your  sort,  but  I've  come  to  do  you  a  good  turn." 

But  Mrs.  Henry  stepped  between  them,  like  a  stately 
if  much  ruffled  hen  shielding  an  only  chick.  "Miss 
Skipwith  does  not  desire  to  be  served;  kindly  let  us 
pass." 

"Oh,  you're  another  of  them  Virginia  aristocrats," 
remarked  Mrs.  Patredis,  still  utterly  impervious  to 
insult.  "They  haven't  been  much  in  my  line  up  to  date, 
but  at  least  I  can  tell  one  when  I  see  it.  That's  more 
than  Pat  can.  He'd  a  got  along  all  right,  if  he  hadn't 
thought  everybody  was  of  his  own  stripe.  Now  don't 
hurry  off.  We're  going  to  have  a  little  circus  right  here. 
I  want  you  to  see  how  prettily  Pat  eats  out  of  my  hand. 
Come  here,  Patty." 

The  beaten  wretch,  crouching  back  in  his  chair,  threw 
her  a  look  of  hatred,  but  did  not  move. 

"This  is  intolerable,"  said  Cousin  Nellie,  her  fine, 
mobile  nostrils  quivering  with  rage.  "Let  me  pass  this 
instant!" 

Mrs.  Patredis  put  out  a  very  substantial-looking  arm. 

"Now  don't  make  a  scene,  lady.  There's  a  detective 
down-stairs,  and  a  whole  bunch  of  Bobbys  at  the  corner 
of  the  street.  Just  let  me  have  my  say,  and  then  I'll 
hike  with  little  Pat  yonder  at  the  end  of  a  string.  Really 
Miss  Skipwith  shouldn't  miss  it." 


358  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Go  —  for  God's  sake,  go,"  groaned  the  man  from  his 
corner. . 

The  newcomer  deliberately  went  over  to  the  door, 
locked  it,  and  came  back  smiling,  with  the  key  in  her 
hand.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the  man  would 
spring  upon  her,  but  one  long,  half  humorous  look  was 
enough  to  make  him  cower,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands. 
The  woman  went  close,  looking  down  at  him,  and  when 
she  spoke,  her  voice  was  almost  caressing.  "Pretty  little 
Pat,  so  bold,  so  blustering,  so  smooth  when  he  is  master. 
Look  at  him  now,  just  because  somebody  who  really 
knows  him  has  come."  Suddenly  she  dropped  her 
bantering  tone  and  looked  at  Ariadne.  "He  was  after 
money,  of  course.  Did  you  let  him  have  it?" 

Before  Ariadne  could  answer,  Mrs.  Henry  said  quickly : 
"She  did  not." 

"It  was  to  pay  me  off,  you  know,"  said  Mrs.  Patredis. 
"So  you'll  make  me  a  present  of  him,  rather  than  buy 
his  freedom  ?  " 

"My  cousin  can  have  no  interest  or  concern  either  in 
you  or  your  accomplice,"  said  Mrs.  Henry.  "And  if 
you  don't  unlock  that  door  this  minute,  I'll  ring  the  bell 
and  have  the  porters  break  it  open.  We  are  not  accus- 
tomed to  breathe  the  air  with  criminals." 

"Keep  on  your  shirt,  old  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Patredis, 
"I've  got  to  think."  She  lowered  her  eyes  and  seemed 
lost  in  reverie. 

Mrs.  Henry  gasped.  The  coolness  of  the  woman's  inso- 
lence made  her  doubt  her  own  senses.  Ariadne  went  for- 
ward a  few  steps,  but  her  cousin  caught  her  back  fiercely. 

Mrs.  Patredis  had  not  turned  her  head,  and  now,  still 
in  thought,  she  murmured  :  "Yes,  I  understand,  the  girl 
refuses  to  cough  up  the  whole  lump  —  but  I'm  not  cer- 
tain that  I  want  it." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  359 

"Ariadne  —  for  God's  sake  —  save  me  from  this 
devil,"  almost  screamed  the  man,  in  the  voice  of  an 
animal  in  its  last  torture. 

"I  can't  stand  it  any  longer,  Cousin  Nellie,"  whispered 
the  girl;  "it's  too  hideous.  Let  him  have  the  money." 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  "I  think  he's  getting  his 
punishment." 

At  her  husband's  last  words,  the  woman  had  turned  a 
slow  look  upon  him.  He  was  quivering  like  a  cold  and 
hungry  dog.  He  felt  her  gaze  and  fought  to  keep  his 
eyes  from  answering  hers,  but  the  hypnotic  influence 
grew.  Slowly  he  raised  a  twitching  face,  gray-green  with 
a  grease  of  sweat  upon  it,  and  his  shrinking,  terrified 
look  met  hers.  She  had  him  as  tangibly  in  her  power  as 
though  handcuffs  had  already  clicked;  All  the  lightness 
and  humor  of  her  face  had  fled.  She  was  personified 
Fate,  implacable,  relentless,  and  triumphant. 

Still  holding  him,  she  said  with  terrible  composure : 
"That  was  a  bad  move,  Pat,  a  damn  fool  thing  to  say, 
and  you  know  it.  We  won't  take  Miss  Skipwith's 
money.  I  don't  want  it.  I  prefer  my  little  Pat." 

"Blanche,  Blanche,"  he  said  through  chattering  teeth, 
"I  didn't  mean  it," 

"Oh,  it's  'Blanche,  Blanche'  now,"  she  sneered,  "but 
it's  come  too  late.  You  always  do  say  just  a  spill  or  two 
over  the  limit.  Do  you  remember  when  that  judge  was 
summing  up  your  case  in  'Frisco  ?  " 

But  the  cornered  rat  was  to  show  his  teeth  at  last.  He 
sprang  toward  her  screaming:  "Be  still,  you  fiend. 
Let  that  rest,  or  I'll  —  I'll  — " 

His  face  was  like  a  maniac's;  he  looked  round  the 
room  as  if  for  weapons. 

Mrs.  Henry  gave  a  cry  of  fear  and  drew  Ariadne  to  the 
shelter  of  her  arms. 


360  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

The  one  person  unmoved  was  Mrs.  Patredis.  "Or 
you'll  do  what  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  cool,  level  voice.  "You'll 
do  exactly  as  you  always  do  when  you're  up  against  me, 
Constantine  Patredis.  You'll  go  right  back  to  your 
little  corner  and  sit  down.  But  you  needn't  sit  this  time. 
I've  had  about  enough.  Go  pick  up  your  pretty  shining 
hat  and  your  cane  and  come  along  with  me." 

"I  won't  come  with  you,"  he  muttered  fiercely.  " Go 
back  to  your  lawyers  and  detectives;  we'll  fight  it  out 
through  them." 

"Oh,  no,  we  won't.  It's  time  I  took  a  hand  in  your 
affairs  myself." 

"You  cannot  force  me  to  follow  you,"  he  chattered. 
Even  Mrs.  Henry  turned  her  eyes  from  the  appalling 
physical  and  moral  anguish  that  quivered  in  his  face. 
The  upper  lip,  under  its  small,  dark  mustache,  lay  back 
along  his  teeth  like  that  of  an  infuriated  wolf. 

"Don't  look  —  don't  look  at  them,  Ariadne,"  she 
whispered,  pressing  the  girl's  face  against  her  breast. 

Mrs.  Patredis'  eyes  had  narrowed.  "I  can't  force 
you  to  follow  me!"  she  repeated  slowly.  "We'll  see 
about  that.  Come!" 

She  went  to  the  door,  unlocking  it.  The  thing  that 
was  meant  to  be  a  man  shambled  after  her.  The  two 
shuddering  women  with  closed  eyes  heard  the  dragging 
of  his  steps  and  the  gasping  breath  of  baffled,  impotent 
rage. 

Just  before  she  opened  the  door,  Mrs.  Patredis  sur- 
veyed the  figures  of  the  two  gentlewomen.  Something 
in  Mrs.  Henry's  averted  face  —  a  dignity  and  nobility  of 
bearing  that  no  contamination  could  have  power  to 
touch  —  the  impossible  spiritual  gulf  which  divided  such 
as  these  from  her  —  brought  a  dull  throb  of  anger  to  her 
heart.  Because  of  it,  her  last  words  were  a  jibe. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  361 

"I  hope  me  and  my  little  Pat  hasn't  kept  you  from 
Buckingham  Palace,  or  Fullers,  or  any  of  them  places 
where  you  good  Americans  go."  Another  fierce  "  Come  ! " 
to  Patredis,  and  they  were  gone. 

For  a  few  moments  the  two  women  remained  standing, 
clinging  dumbly  to  one  another.  Then  Mrs.  Henry  took 
down  her  arm  and  going  to  each  window  in  turn,  threw 
the  sash  as  wide  as  it  would  go.  Then  she  pushed  an 
electric  bell.  When  the  servant  came,  she  commanded : 
"  Go  across  the  street  to  that  little  drug-store  and  buy  me 
a  bottle  of  chloride  of  lime." 

"Very  good,  Madam." 

"And  I'd  like  another  disinfectant,  too,  the  kind  you 
use  with  an  atomizer.  Charge  them  up  to  our  room." 
As  the  man  turned,  she  added  :  "Send  my  chambermaid 
to  me."  It  was  not  till  after  the  maid  had  entered  and 
been  told  to  prepare  a  hot  bath  that  Mrs.  Henry  spoke 
to  her  young  cousin. 

"I  suppose  the  maid  will  think  I'm  out  of  my  senses. 
I've  had  one  bath  already,  but  I  must  have  another  and 
change  my  clothes  to  the  skin  before  I  can  begin  to  feel 
decent." 

"I  know,"  said  the  girl  wearily.  "I've  felt  that  way 
too.  I  think  I'll  go  to  my  room." 

As  she  was  leaving,  Mrs.  Henry  came  up  to  her,  took 
her  by  the  shoulders,  and  looked  long  into  the  pale 
young  face. 

"And  you've  lived  near  a  thing  like  that  for  seven 
years  !"  she  said  slowly. 

Ariadne  pushed  back  the  hair  from  her  forehead. 
Her  words,  which  seemed  at  the  moment  irrelevant, 
came  from  the  same  bitter  spring  of  thought. 

"Now  I  can  say  truly  that  I  am  glad  Donna  is  dead." 


CHAPTER  IV 

AT  luncheon  Judge  Henry  announced  his  success  in 
securing  a  passage  on  the  Regina  —  "  the  latest  and  most 
luxurious  steamer  in  the  world  sailing  between  Southamp- 
ton and  New  York." 

"I'm  extremely  glad  we  can  return  so  soon,"  he  re- 
marked, looking  kindly  at  Ariadne,  "for  the  sooner  we 
get  our  little  girl  away  from  these  unpleasant  associa- 
tions, the  better  it  is  going  to  be  for  her.  There  is  to  be 
no  longer  a  Naxos  for  Ariadne  of  Allan  Water ;  she  is 
come  into  her  own  again." 

"Unpleasant  associations!  Humph!"  said  Cousin 
Nellie,  with  such  emphasis  that  the  Judge  looked  startled, 
and  Ariadne  gave  a  warning  glance  across  the  table.  It 
had  been  agreed  between  the  cousins  that  no  mention 
should  be  made  just  yet  of  their  loathsome  experience 
with  the  Patredises.  Mrs.  Henry  knew  her  husband  well, 
and  she  actually  feared  to  let  him  know,  while  the  evil- 
doers were  still  close  at  hand,  the  full  indignity  which  she 
and  Ariadne  had  suffered.  Behind  his  quiet  eyes  lurked 
still  a  smoldering  fire  of  youth  and  impetuosity;  any 
affront  to  herself  would  have  been  a  handful  of  straw 
upon  the  coals.  It  was  not  impossible  that  he  would 
have  started  out  at  once  in  search  of  Patredis,  intent 
upon  personal  chastisement. 

So  now,  at  Ariadne's  look,  Mrs.  Henry  hurriedly 
corrected  herself  and  said  cheerily:  "So  the  tickets  are 
bought !  That  means  in  two  days  we  start  for  home." 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  363 

Dick  Carter,  who  had  been  quiet  for  a  few  moments, 
being  engrossed  in  chasing  stiffly  fried  whitebait  round  an 
unnecessarily  large  plate,  suddenly  dropped  his  fork  and 
looked  up.  The  meaning  of  his  mother's  words  had  just 
reached  him.  "Coin'  home?"  he  repeated,  incredulous 
with  joy.  His  mother  smiled  and  nodded.  "Goody 
goody  gout,  my  shirt-tail's  out ! "  sang  the  child  at  the 
top  of  his  voice. 

The  prim  English  folk,  seated  at  tables  around  them, 
turned  with  an  air  of  shock  and  astonishment.  Several 
ladies  raised  their  lorgnons.  A  red-faced  gentleman 
choked  over  his  mug  of  ale.  There  were  one  or  two 
wintry  gleams  of  amusement,  but  for  the  most  part  the 
other  guests  looked  as  if  they  were  in  personal  danger. 
The  two  chief  waiters  rushed  together  for  a  whispered 
conference.  One  of  the  hotel  proprietors  came  to  the 
door,  gazing  at  the  Henry  table  blankly. 

Mrs.  Henry  was  red  with  mortification.  Even  Ariadne 
flushed.  "Dick  Kyarter,"  said  the  mother,  "what  on 
earth  has  possessed  you?  Leave  the  table  at  once." 
Dick  had  squirmed  down  on  his  chair  until  only  the 
small,  shamed  face  appeared  above  the  whitebait. 

"I  didn't  mean  nothin',  Muddie,"  he  whined.  "It 
jest  come  out." 

Mrs.  Henry  was  not  placated.  "I  knew  you'd  dis- 
grace us  yet,"  she  fumed ;  "just  see  how  the  people  are 
staring  at  you.  Leave  the  table." 

Dick  Carter  hung  one  hip  over  the  side  of  the  chair 
and  put  a  fat-ribbed  stocking  further.  In  doing  so  he 
glanced  imploringly  at  his  father.  Judge  Henry  tried, 
too  late,  to  check  the  twitching  at  the  corner  of  his  lips. 
Dick  regained  self-confidence  in  an  instant. 

"If  you  make  me  go  now,  Muddie,  I'm  sure  to  fall  off 
the  front  gallery  and  break  my  neck,"  he  argued. 


364  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Judge  Henry,  were  you  laughing  at  him?"  the  lady 
now  demanded,  turning  her  full  ire  upon  her  lord.  "  And 
Ariadne  —  positively  chuckling !  How  can  any  one 
expect  me  to  manage  an  imp  like  that  if  he  sees  you  others 
laughing?" 

"Never  mind,  Cousin  Nellie,"  said  the  girl.  "He 
won't  do  it  again.  Please  let  him  stay." 

Mrs.  Henry  felt  it  incumbent  upon  her  maternal 
dignity  to  keep  her  gaze  sternly  fixed  a  little  longer 
upon  the  culprit.  But  Dick  knew  well  when  hidden 
rocks  were  passed.  He  had  again  drawn  himself  upright, 
secure  in  his  father's  favor,  and  renewed  his  interest  in 
his  luncheon. 

"We  don't  ever  eat  minnows  at  home,  do  we,  father  ?" 
he  inquired  blandly,  picking  up  a  rather  fat  whitebait  by 
the  tail  and  holding  it  critically  against  the  light. 
"  Gee  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  this  one's  full  of  insides.  Have  I 
been  eatin'  insides,  Muddie?" 

"Take  it  away  from  him.  Take  it  away  quick," 
Mrs.  Henry  said  in  a  low,  agonized  voice  to  her  husband. 
She  leaned  back  in  pretended  exhaustion. 

When  her  peace  of  mind  was  somewhat  restored,  she 
said  to  her  husband :  "I  want  to  take  Ariadne  shopping 
this  afternoon.  How  much  money  can  you  let  us  have  ?  " 

"Nearly  any  amount  you  wish,  my  dear ;  you  know  I 
had  to  cable  for  more." 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  said  his  wife  hurriedly.  She  did 
not  want  Ariadne's  mind  to  go  back  to  the  necessity  of 
the  cabling.  "Well,  I  want  a  good  deal.  About  five 
hundred  dollars,  at  the  least.  We've  so  much  to  buy." 

Ariadne  looked  astonished.  "Why,  Cousin  Nellie, 
how  can  you  want  so  much  in  this  short  time  ?  I  don't 
need  anything." 

"Yes,  you  do,"  said  the  other.     "I  was  just  about  to 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  365 

tell  you  of  it  before  luncheon,  when  we  were  —  inter- 
rupted," again  the  knowing  look  passed.  "Now  before 
I  go  back  to  it,  I  want  to  arrange  about  Dick  Kyarter. 
You'll  have  to  take  charge  of  him,  Judge  Henry." 

"I  —  to  take  entire  charge ?"  said  the  Judge,  with  an 
apprehensive  glance  toward  his  son. 

"I  want  to  go  shoppin'  with  you  and  Cousin  Ariadne," 
said  Dick,  "I  want  to  buy  a  billy-goat." 

"We  are  not  going  to  a  sale  of  billy-goats,"  said  Mrs. 
Henry.  Her  face  brightened.  "  I  know  the  very  thing. 
Take  him  to  the  Zoological  Gardens.  They  have  a  fine 
one  here.  Maybe  you  can  get  an  empty  monkey-cage 
and  bribe  the  keeper  to  lock  him  in  until  the  time  of 
sailing."  Again  Dickie's  side  glance  went  to  his  father. 

"Shucks  !"  he  swaggered,  very  emboldened  by  what 
he  saw.  "Muddie  wouldn't  let  me  stay  in  a  monkey- 
cage.  She'd  be  scared  the  people  would  give  me  too 
many  peanuts." 

"I  feel  that  the  Zoological  Gardens  are  peculiarly 
appropriate,"  said  the  Judge.  "Well,  my  boy,  as  soon 
as  we've  visited  the  bank  for  these  ladies,  we  will  take  an 
omnibus  to  the  Zoo,  and  give  them  a  long  afternoon  for 
shopping." 

"But  I  don't  understand,  Cousin  Nellie,"  said  the  girl, 
still  a  little  puzzled.  "You  had  all  sorts  of  things  sent 
here  to  the  hotel  for  me :  a  black  traveling  coat,  and  a 
hat,  and  everything — " 

"Listen  to  me,  Ariadne,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  leaning  her 
plump  elbows  on  the  table.  "Do  you  realize  that  you 
are  no  longer  a  wandering  Jew  but  an  American  heiress  ? 
You  are  Ariadne  of  Allan  Water,  and,  as  the  Judge  says, 
are  coming  into  your  own." 

"No,  I  hadn't  thought  of  it  that  way,"  admitted  the 
girl. 


366  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"You  don't  realize,  either,  I  suppose,  that  a  cable  has 
been  sent  your  grandmother,  and  that  by  now  our 
special  part  of  Virginia  is  in  one  twitter  of  expectancy 
over  your  coming." 

"I  didn't  realize,"  said  the  girl,  clasping  her  hands 
together.  Cousin  Nellie  nodded,  well-pleased  at  the 
effect  she  was  beginning  to  produce.  Judge  Henry 
watched  Ariadne's  face  lovingly. 

"Well,  they  are  !  From  Mr.  Crane  at  the  station 
to  Uncle  Peter  and  Mammy  in  the  kitchen  porch 
at  Allan  Water,  they  are  all  thinking  and  talking 
about  little  else.  Life  slips  by  pretty  fast  in  Virginia. 
The  change  of  seasons,  with  now  and  then  the  funeral 
of  an  old  inhabitant,  .makes  up  their  greatest  ex- 
citement." 

Ariadne's  lips  trembled  in  a  smile.  The  words  brought 
the  old,  quiet  life  back  so  plainly. 

"To  them  you  will  be  a  romantic  heroine,  a  sort  of 
fairy  princess.  If  you  had  left  Allan  Water  in  a  star- 
spangled  balloon,  going  straight  up,  and  wandering 
around  among  the  planets  for  these  seven  years,  you 
could  not  be  a  more  remarkable  figure." 

"I  don't  see  how  it  can,"  said  the  girl.  "It  all  seems 
so  dull  and  uneventful  to  me."  The  color  and  life  in  her 
young  face  were  deepening  steadily. 

"Well,  that's  just  how  it  is,  I  know,"  said  Cousin  Nellie 
with  decision. 

"She  is  exactly  right,  my  dear,"  added  Judge  Henry. 
"  This  home-coming  of  yours  will  be  the  greatest  event 
for  years." 

"Now  to  the  shopping!"  Mrs.  Henry  went  on. 
"Did  you  ever  hear  of  an  exiled  princess  returning  in 
triumph  to  her  home  with  empty  hands?  Certainly 
not ;  she  brings  rich  perfumes,  rolls  of  silk,  and  strange 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  367 

jewels  from  the  Orient.  In  other  words,"  Mrs.  Henry 
broke  off,  laughing  her  deep  "peach"  laugh  at  the 
bewilderment  in  the  girl's  face  —  "in  other  and  more 
suitable  words,  my  dear,  every  living  soul  within  a  radius 
of  twenty  miles  of  Allan  Water  must  have  some  present, 
some  token  of  remembrance  from  the  Princess'  own 
lily-white  hands.  It  would  break  their  hearts  if  you 
took  nothing.  It  doesn't  matter  what  you  take  —  from 
a  two-penny  trinket  to  a  motor-car  —  it  is  the  thought 
they  value.  They  are  made  that  way  ! " 

Ariadne's  eyes  were  now  like  stars.  The  lovely, 
shifting  pink  was  in  her  cheeks.  "Oh,  Cousin  Nellie,  I 
see.  How  good  you  are  and  how  thoughtful.  I  don't 
believe  it  ever  would  have  occurred  to  me,  by  myself. 
Oh,  it  will  be  lovely  to  pick  out  things  for  them.  Can 
we  have  heaps  of  money,  Cousin  Judge?"  She  turned 
to  him,  eager  and  sparkling. 

"As  you  are  now  sole  heiress  to  nearly  one  million 
dollars  with  an  income  of  over  fifty  thousand  a  year,  you 
can  safely  allow  yourself  to  be  extravagant,"  laughed 
the  Judge. 

"I'm  going  to  buy  everybody  something  beautiful. 
I  think  I'll  begin  with  Dick  Carter.  Oh,  Dicky  —  did 
you  hear  what  heaps  and  heaps  of  money  your  cousin 
Ariadne  has  ?  It  sounds  ridiculous  for  it  to  be  me. 
What  do  you  want,  Dicky?  Say  anything  !" 

She  was  a  child  herself,  leaning  down  to  the  boy's 
upturned  face. 

"Gee  —  can  I  have  anything?"  cried  Dick  Carter. 
He  frowned,  in  that  absurd  replica  of  Randolph's  darker 
look.  Something  caught  at  the  girl's  heart,  but  she 
thrust  it  back. 

"Anything,  Dicky.     I'll  buy  that  first." 

"If  I  can't  get  a  billy-goat  — "  he  mused,  "oh,  I  know  ! 


368  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

I  want  a  balloon,  a  big  balloon  —  with  star  spangles  — 
like  the  one  Muddie  says  took  you  up." 

Ariadne  threw  a  distressed  look  at  the  Judge.  "Star- 
spangled  things  are  made  only  in  America,  my  boy," 
he  said,  helping  her  out.  "  We'll  look  about  New  York 
for  one." 

"How  would  you  like  a  watch,  Dicky  ?  A  real  watch 
with  a  pretty  chain?"  the  girl  queried. 

Dicky's  young  face  was  dubious. 

"If  you  had  a  watch,  you  could  keep  up  with  all  those 
funny  bells  on  the  steamer,  and  see  if  they  were  right," 
put  in  the  mother  insidiously. 

"Me  for  the  watch  !"  exclaimed  Dicky,  to  the  relief  of 
all.  "An'  I  want  a  long  chain  with  a  whistle  on  it  —  so 
I  can  blow  as  many  whistles  as  they  have  bells." 

This  important  point  being  settled,  Ariadne  turned 
again  to  Cousin  Nellie. 

"And  what  for  my  precious,  precious  Grandma  ?" 

"Have  you  ever  passed  by  that  marvelous  shop  called 
Liberty's?" 

Ariadne  shook  her  head. 

"No  woman  passes  by,"  said  the  Judge  in  pretended 
gloom.  "  Nellie  dragged  me  into  it  yesterday.  Liberty 
is  a  misnomer  —  at  least  where  tractable  husbands  are 
concerned." 

"He  said  that  yesterday.  He  thought  it  very  witty, 
so  he  says  it  again,"  remarked  Mrs.  Henry  with  scorn. 
"My  remark  was,  give  me  Liberty's  and  give  me  debt. 
The  whole  big  shop  is  like  a  shattered  rainbow.  Such 
scarfs,  and  ribbons,  and  lengths  of  shining  gauze.  They 
have  wonderful,  crinkly  head-things  that  seem  knitted 
out  of  spider-webs  and  dew.  I  can  just  see  one  of  them 
on  that  lovely  white  hair  of  Cousin  Belinda's ;  and  they 
have  tea-cozies,  so  exquisite  that  my  only  fear  is  for  per- 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  369 

fumed  tea.  And  little  velvet  footstools,  made  for 
Virginia  —  and  slippers  —  and  wadded  lounging  robes 
—  and  beaded  reticules  and  — 

"You've  said  enough,  my  dear,"  laughed  the  Judge, 
"Ariadne  is  thoroughly  inoculated.  Come,  Dick  Carter, 
let's  hasten  to  the  bank  for  funds.  I'll  get  five  hundred 
for  each  of  you." 

Later,  as  the  two  women  sat  together  in  a  speeding 
taxicab,  the  elder  woman  said  in  a  very  thoughtful  tone  : 
"Do  you  know,  my  dear,  I've  just  been  wondering 
whether  I  am  really  a  very  dull,  unemotional  sort  of 
person,  or  whether  that  dreadful  scene  this  morning  was 
in  itself  so  extreme  —  so  —  so  outside,  as  it  were,  to 
experiences  that  generally  come  into  decent  people's  lives 
—  that  there  is  nothing  in  me  to  retain  it.  Of  course 
this  is  a  feeble  way  of  expressing  myself,  but  already  it 
feels  to  me  like  a  nightmare  that  has  gone  forever." 

The  girl  sighed.  "I'm  afraid  it's  more  real  to  me 
than  that.  You  see  I  have  known  that  terrible  man  so 
long." 

"Well,  it  will  pass.  It  simply  has  got  to,"  said  Mrs. 
Henry  in  her  decided  way.  "Why,  in  less  than  a  month 
it  will  be  no  more  than  some  terrible  scene  in  a  low  theater 
to  which  you  were  dragged.  Such  things  are  out  of  your 
life  forever  —  and  thank  God  for  it !  Everything  is 
before  you,  dear  child,  riches,  health,  youth,  and  —  well, 
you  remember  what  your  Cousin  Nellie  once  said  to  you 
in  the  old  phaeton  at  home."  With  a  charming,  loving 
tenderness,  she  again  put  her  hand  under  the  girl's  chin 
and  turned  the  drooping  face  upward.  Ariadne  met  her 
eyes  fairly,  -and  the  answering  smile  was  exquisitely 
sweet ;  but  Cousin  Nellie's  heart  was  aching  just  a  little 
for  what  she  saw  was  no  longer  the  face  of  a  child  but  that 
of  a  woman  who  had  suffered.  She  took  her  hand  away. 


370  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"You've  got  all  the  gifts  of  life,"  she  cried,  as  if  in  de- 
fiance of  the  fate  which  had  wrought  the  subtle  change. 
"There  are  to  be  no  more  shadows  —  only  sunshine  and 
great  happiness." 

"I  can  never  be  really  happy,  Cousin  Nellie,  not  in  the 
way  you  mean.  The  nearest  to  it  will  be  getting  home 
again." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  cried  the  elder  woman. 
"You've  got  to  be  happy.  I'll  see  to  it  that  you  are. 
Well,  this  is  our  shop.  Did  you  ever  see  such  windows  ? 
Yesterday  they  were  all  pink ;  and  to-day  they  are  filled 
up  with  strips  of  London  mist,  with  lilacs  and  streaks  of 
sunlight  showing  through.  Stop  a  minute.  Let  me  pay 
off  the  driver  and  let  the  taxi  go.  It  makes  me  nervous 
to  think  of  him  sitting  outside  here,  waiting,  while  the 
infernal  machine  by  him  spits  out  good  American  dimes. 
No,  don't  wait,"  she  said  to  the  ingratiating  chauffeur. 

Ariadne  found  that  her  cousin  had  not  exaggerated. 
A  very  lust  of  purchase  overtook  her.  "I'm  getting 
positively  excited  with  it,"  she  said  once,  laughingly,  as 
she  had  just  given  the  order  for  four  exquisite,  quilted 
sofa-pillows  in  shades  of  mauve  and  purple.  "You 
know  I  have  never  had  money  to  spend.  Donna  didn't 
always  think  of  it  and  I  hated  to  ask." 

Ariadne  was  still  laughing.  Not  a  trace  of  resentment 
showed  in  her  voice,  but  Cousin  Nellie  had  to  turn  away 
to  keep  the  bitter  comment  back.  Instead  she  said 
cheerfully:  "Now  for  Mrs.  Crane.  She  still  has  neural- 
gia when  she  needs  it.  I'm  sure  this  magenta  scarf  will 
give  her  such  rapture  that  she  will  probably  insist  on 
being  buried  in  it." 

"Yes,  yes,"  agreed  the  girl.  "But  why  can't  I  get 
her  a  dress,  too  —  one  of  those  neat,  black  silks  already 
made  up." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  371 

"Neat!  Black!"  sniffed  Cousin  Nellie.  "You  must 
have  forgotten  Mrs.  Crane.  Anything  darker  than  pea- 
green  would  be  an  insult." 

"Then  lets  get  that  iridescent  purple  with  the  gold 
tones  in  it ;  and  are  those  spangles  on  the  waist  ?" 

"That's  her  style  exactly.  Think  of  the  harmony 
between  that  and  the  magenta  scarf !" 

Mr.  Crane  presented  graver  difficulties.  A  yellow 
waistcoat  and  a  number  of  gaudy  ties  were  chosen,  but 
Ariadne  declared  these  not  enough.  "I  want  to  take 
him  a  real  present  and  put  it  into  his  hands  myself  when 
I  get  off  the  train." 

They  finally  decided  that  a  compact  smoker's  outfit 
would  be  the  thing.  "Though  really,  in  my  heart,  I 
believe  he  would  prefer  a  mechanical  toy."  said  Mrs. 
Henry. 

"What  a  pity  that  they  haven't  lots  and  lots  of  chil- 
dren," sighed  Ariadne.  "Then  I  could  take  them  all 
Mechanical  toys." 

"It  strikes  me  you're  doing  pretty  well  as  it  is,"  said 
Cousin  Nellie  dryly.  "You  have  already  filled  about  two 
trunks  that  you  haven't  got.  We'll  stop  somewhere 
just  at  the  last  and  buy  them." 

Reluctantly  they  turned    their  backs   on  Liberty's. 

"We  won't  take  another  taxi,"  said  Mrs.  Henry. 
"It  will  do  us  good  to  walk  a  little.  Besides,  we  can 
look  in  the  store  windows  and  see  if  there's  anything  we 
want." 

"I  seem  to  want  everything  I  see,"  laughed  the  girl. 
Suddenly  she  paused.  They  had  come  to  a  florist's 
where,  among  the  tall  flower-holders  filled  with  roses, 
orchids,  iris,  and  spikes  of  many  colored  gladiolus,  lay  a 
great  cross  made  of  lilies.  To  Ariadne,  not  knowing  it  to 
be  an  ordinary  English  custom,  the  waiting  offering  on  its 


372  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

somber  velvet  background  seemed  a  personal  reminder 
of  a  tribute  unfulfilled.  Without  speaking  to  her  com- 
panion, she  went  into  the  shop. 

Mrs.  Henry  remained  outside.  She  did  not  need  to 
ask  the  meaning  of  the  girl's  errand.  When  she  returned, 
after  a  few  brief  directions  to  the  florist,  and  the  exchange 
not  only  of  bank-notes  but  of  the  florist's  address,  her 
face  was  graver  but  very,  very  sweet.  Mrs.  Henry  made 
no  comment,  and  the  two  walked  on  together  in  search  of 
Mr.  Crane's  meerschaum  pipe  and  its  silver-mounted 
accessories. 

It  was  one  of  those  days  in  London  when  the  prevalent 
"crepuscule"  effects,  beloved  of  French  artists,  had 
vanished  utterly.  The  lowering  gray  sky  had  rolled 
back  like  a  tent,  showing  high,  arched  blue  and  the  heaped 
up  white  of  clouds.  The  sun  shone  down  on  a  multi- 
colored crowd.  Regent  Street,  in  spite  of  its  generous 
width,  was  packed  close  with  slow-moving  vehicles, 
chiefly  taxicabs,  in  which  gayly  dressed  women  or  some- 
times a  bored  youth  lolled.  It  chanced  to  be  "Alex- 
andra Day,"  and  hundreds  of  young  girls  all  in  white  were 
selling  wild  roses. 

Finally  the  smoking  outfit  was  secured.  Cousin 
Nellie,  looking  at  her  watch,  said  she  was  ready  for 
some  tea.  "And  here's  a  place  that  looks  very  British. 
I  like  English  things  in  England." 

They  took  their  places  at  a  small  marble  table.  A 
waitress  hurried  up  smiling.  "Two  teas  ? "  she  inquired. 

"Yes,  tea  for  two,"  said  Mrs.  Henry. 

"And  what  with  it,  Madam?  Tea-kyke?  Buttered 
toast  —  scones  —  bans  —  bread  and  butter  —  or  plyne 
kyke?" 

"Tea-cakes,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  grasping  at  the  first. 
The  maid  hurried  off. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  373 

"I  don't  suppose  we  can  eat  sweet  stuff  this  early  in  the 
evening,"  she  continued,  "but  I  had  to  say  something  to 
stop  that  torrent  in  a  foreign  tongue." 

With  the  tea  came  two  plates,  on  each  of  which  reposed 
what  looked  like  the  half  of  an  enormous  yeast-powder 
biscuit,  the  surface  toasted  slightly,  and  heavily  but- 
tered. 

Mrs.  Henry  gave  a  covert  but  inquiring  glance  across 
the  table.  When  the  maid  left,  she  said:  "So  this  is 
tea-cake.  Not  a  grain  of  sugar  in  it  and  big  enough  to 
feed  an  alligator.  I  wonder  what  Dick  Kyarter  would 
remark  if  he  were  here  ?" 

"It's  just  as  well  he  isn't !"  laughed  Ariadne. 

"They  are  very  good,  no  matter  what  the  English  call 
them,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  as  she  finished.  "Now,  we 
must  renew  our  attack  upon  those  presents.  I  think  we'd 
better  get  Anguish  a  couple  of  real  bell-boy  suits,  green 
with  rows  of  gold  buttons.  Fancy  his  pride  !  Dick 
Kyarter  has  been  tormenting  my  life  out  of  me  for  one. 
I  caught  him  trying  on  the  Morley  bell-boy's  jacket. 
Then  some  good,  serviceable  things  for  the  elder  serv- 
ants—" 

"Yes,  but  something  pretty,  too,  something  not  use- 
ful," said  Ariadne. 

"My  child,"  said  Cousin  Nellie  with  mock  severity, 
"you  are  young  to  have  found  out  the  immoral  truth 
that  gifts,  in  proportion  to  their  uselessness,  are  most 
highly  prized." 

Ariadne  laughed.  "Then  I  think  Mammy  would 
adore  a  long-handled  fancy  lorgnon,  and  yes,  Cousin 
Nellie,  I  am  going  to  buy  Uncle  Peter  an  opera-hat. 
Don't  you  know,  the  kind  that  collapse  and  snap  back 
into  shape.  He  would  love  to  wear  it  on  Sunday  and 
show  it  off  at  church." 


374  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

The  rest  of  the  shopping  was  comparatively  simple, 
consisting  chiefly  in  the  purchase  of  various  English 
"  traveling  boxes." 

"The  great  thing  is  to  make  sure  our  trunks  are  de- 
livered," said  the  practical  matron;  "you  won't  have 
time  for  real  packing.  You  had  better  just  pile  bundles 
in  as  they  come.  The  bills  will  be  with  them,  and  we'll 
go  through  those  wretched,  American  customs  without 
any  trouble." 

"What  are  customs?"  asked  the  girl  innocently. 

"You  poor,  benighted  child!"  said  Cousin  Nellie, 
staring.  "Don't  you  know  anything  about  your  own 
land  ?  Customs  are  a  tax  you  pay  for  being  honest  —  or 
rather,  for  being  afraid  of  getting  caught." 

They  returned  to  the  hotel,  weary,  almost  penniless, 
but  radiant  with  the  thought  of  packages  to  come.  The 
Judge  and  Dick  Carter  had  already  returned.  The  boy 
had  been  good,  unusually  good,  his  father  stated,  at 
which  Dick  Carter's  face  took  on  an  expression  so  entirely 
seraphic  that  Mrs.  Henry  looked  sharply  at  him  and 
declared:  "He's  probably  been  a  worse  terror  than 
usual,"  as  she  moved  toward  the  lift.  "Ariadne  and  I 
are  simply  ready  to  drop.  Come  on,  Ariadne.  Aren't 
you  dead  ?  " 

"I  am  tired,"  answered  the  girl,  "but  it's  such  a  happy 
tired.  All  the  way  over  on  the  ship  I'll  do  nothing  but 
think  about  the  lovely  things  we've  bought,  and  the 
pleasure  they  will  give." 

"If  you  did  what  a  girl  of  your  age  and  looks  ought  to 
do,  you'd  flirt  on  that  ship  from  the  minute  you  put  your 
first  toe  on  it  till  your  last  heel  had  scraped  the  farther 
deck." 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  not  that  kind  of  girl,"  said  Ariadne 
wistfully ;  "sometimes  I  wish  I  were." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  departure  from  London  was  taken  very  quietly. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  had  not  been  there  long  enough  to 
make  new  friends,  or  to  notify  their  few  acquaintances 
of  their  presence  in  the  big  metropolis.  Ariadne  had  no 
grown-up  friends  anywhere.  All  the  pleasant  little 
ceremonies  of  farewell,  the  gifts  of  flowers,  fruit,  and 
books,  were  lacking,  but  since  the  girl  had  never  known 
of  these,  she  could  not  miss  them. 

The  one  dramatic  incident,  if  it  could  be  so  called,  took 
place  on  the  Morley  "porch"  at  the  moment  when  Dick 
Carter  and  young  Edgar  Rabbit,  a  bell-boy,  were  bidden 
to  say  their  last  farewells.  Dick's  voice,  always  of  a 
valiant  and  stentorian  quality,  was  lifted  now  in  lamenta- 
tions that  filled  Trafalgar  Square.  Pedestrians  stopped 
to  gaze  upward.  The  tops  of  passing  "busses"  showed 
craning  necks  and  backward  turning  faces.  A  wan 
suffragette,  selling  papers  at  the  corner,  let  the  portfolio 
fall;  while  the  tall  blue  "Bobby"  whose  beat  was  near 
this  dangerous,  if  demure  young  person,  took  a  few  hur- 
ried steps  toward  the  scene  of  woe. 

The  two  boys,  clinging  to  each  other,  exchanged  vows 
of  constant  intercourse  and  undying  friendship,  together 
with  muttered  blasphemies  against  the  parents  of  each 
who  had  combined  to  work  this  wrong. 

"Never  mind,  Edgar  Rabbit,  when  I'm  grown  up  I'm 
comin'  back  an'  git  you.  I  can  fight  your  father,  then, 
an'  your  mother,  an'  —  an'  —  everybody."  He  clinched 


376  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

his  little  fists  and  looked  about  him  fiercely,  as  if  longing 
then  for  the  deferred  battle. 

The  English  lad,  more  guarded  in  his  grief,  dug  fists 
into  his  reddened  eyes,  and  muttered  that  "it  was  a 
shyme,  that's  what  it  was,  a  shyme  !" 

The  Judge,  of  all  the  onlookers,  was  most  plainly 
affected.  He  bent  over  the  small  Rabbit,  whispered 
his  own  promise  to  let  Dick  come  back  before  very 
long,  and  added  the  more  tangible  benediction  of  such 
a,  heap  of  the  small  "gold  shillings"  that  the  boy  was 
dazed. 

Dick,  borne  to  the  taxi  hi  his  father's  arms,  wept 
on;  but  a  small  boy's  tears  cannot  last  very  long, 
especially  when  two  ministering  angels  are  at  hand, 
plying  him  with  offerings  and  consolation.  By  the 
time  the  great  station  was  reached,  his  angry  little 
face  had  cleared,  and  when  Ariadne,  her  hands  full  of 
the  clumsy  English  coppers,  took  him  from  one  penny- 
in-the-slot  machine  to  another,  letting  him  take  from  the 
mysterious,  clicking  drawers  a  weird  assortment  of 
toys,  matches,  chocolates,  cakes,  preserved  fruits, 
post-cards,  and  chewing-gum,  his  bright  grin  was  in  its 
usual  place. 

On  the  steamer  other  child  friends  were  made,  and 
even  the  most  inconsiderate  of  parents  cannot  separate 
affinities  on  shipboard. 

Ariadne,  true  to  her  own  prevision,  kept  entirely  to 
herself,  and  often  in  her  long  walks,  pausing  to  stare  at  the 
gray,  ever-lessening  distance  toward  America,  dreamed 
of  her  home  and  longed  for  the  intervening  hours  to 
have  passed.  Many  curious  and  admiring  glances 
were  sent  after  the  tall,  graceful,  young  figure  as  she 
took  these  solitary  walks.  Her  deep  mourning  dress 
and  grave  face  were  in  themselves  enough  to  attract 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  377 

attention,  but  when  it  was  learned,  through  the  medium 
of  Dick  Carter,  that  the  pretty  lady  was  his  cousin 
"named  Ariadne  —  he  didn't  remember  her  other 
name,"  and  that  she  hadn't  been  back  home  for  years 
and  years,  and  that  she  had  more  money  than  anybody 
else  in  the  whole  world  !  interest  naturally  deepened. 
More  than  one  young  man  began  to  pay  flattering  court 
to  Dick,  and  baffled  by  his  impatience  of  "grown-ups," 
made  deferential  advances  to  Judge  Henry,  all  to  no 
result. 

Meanwhile  the  uneventful  days  were  slipping  past. 
One  morning  the  Judge,  coming  back  to  them  from  his 
after-dinner  cigar,  said  to  Ariadne:  "Well,  my  dear, 
this  is  our  last  day  on  board.  The  Captain  tells  me 
by  five  o'clock  we  are  to  see  what,  to  my  mind,  at  least, 
is  the  most  stupendous  monument  of  man's  energy  and 
power  in  all  the  world.  I  refer  to  the  approach  to  New 
York  from  the  sea." 

"I  suppose  it  has  changed  a  great  deal  since  Ariadne 
left  it,"  remarked  Cousin  Nellie. 

"And  I  don't  remember  it,"  said  the  girl.  "I  think 
we  sailed  in  a  Boston  steamer,  but  I'm  not  quite  sure." 

"Passengers  who  are  constantly  crossing  tell  me  that 
it  changes  from  month  to  month,"  put  in  the  Judge. 
"Each  new  sky-scraper,  as  it  goes  up,  causes  a  storm  of 
protestation  for  fear  that  the  sky-line  will  be  injured. 
But  when  the  new  Titan  has  taken  his  final  place,  and 
his  head  and  shoulders,  however  ugly,  square  them- 
selves against  eternity  —  so  to  speak  —  the  granite 
fortress  of  the  city  is  found  to  have  gained  an  added 
dignity." 

Ariadne  slipped  her  arm  into  his. 

"Take  me  for  a  little  walk  along  the  deck,  Cousin 
Judge,"  she  begged. 


378  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

The  light  in  the  fine  old  eyes  had  warmed  and  touched 
her.  She  longed  to  say  to  him  how  beautiful  it  must  be 
to  have  these  thoughts,  this  broad,  humble  consciousness 
of  human  life,  but  she  couldn't  find  words  that  seemed 
fitting  for  such  tribute.  Cousin  Nellie  had  settled  back 
in  her  chair.  She  was  smiling,  her  eyes  bright  and 
tender. 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure,  my  dear,"  said  the  old 
Virginian,  offering  his  arm  to  Ariadne.  He  would  have 
been  astonished  and  entirely  overcome  could  he  have 
seen  just  then  into  the  heart  of  his  companion. 

"I  want  you  to  be  with  me,  Cousin  Judge,  when  the 
very  first  glimpse  of  New  York  can  be  seen.  You  and 
Cousin  Nellie,  too.  Will  you?"  asked  the  girl,  after 
a  few  moments  of  silent  walking. 

"I  should  consider  it  a  privilege,"  he  answered. 

"Oh,  Cousin  Judge,"  she  said  impulsively,  after 
another  little  pause. 

"Yes  — dear  child?" 

"Why  is  it  that  when  men  can  do  such  wonderful 
things  —  when  they  can  pile  up  such  a  city,  and  paint 
pictures  that  almost  breathe,  and  write  music  that  your 
soul  gets  drowned  in  —  why  should  one  person,  even  a 
perfectly  unimportant  person  like  me,  feel,  sometimes, 
as  if  they  were  the  real  center  of  it,  as  if  —  Oh,  I  don't 
know  how  to  tell  you,  but  sometimes  it  just  catches  me 
here,"  she  put  her  hand  against  her  heart.  "It  almost 
burns  me  with  that  queer  sense  of  being  the  center  of  it 
all,  as  if  it  were  here  for  me  —  and  nothing  matters 
quite  so  much  as  for  this  little  singing,  ridiculous  spark 
of  me  to  think  and  to  feel  things  and  to  try  to  be  happy  ?  " 

"Dear  little  girl,"  said  the  man  tenderly,  "you  touch 
the  very  heart-spring  of  life's  mystery  in  such  wonder- 
ing. No  one  can  answer  you.  You  yourself  never  can 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  379 

find  the  answer.  It  is  the  great  integral  'why.'  It 
runs  in  the  sap  of  young  trees  and  in  the  beating  of  a 
bird's  heart,  no  less  than  in  the  human  spirit.  Philos- 
ophers have  tried  for  centuries  to  give  us  a  reply.  For 
my  own  part,"  here  he  lowered  his  voice  reverently, 
"I  believe  it  to  be  the  one  universal  yearning  of  His 
creatures  for  the  Divine  Source  of  all." 

"You  have  helped  me  more  than  anybody  I  ever 
knew,"  said  the  girl  in  a  broken  whisper.  "You  helped 
me  there  in  London.  I  must  always  be  just  a  little 
stronger  and  more  able  to  bear  things  because  you  are 
my  friend ;  and  you  believe  in  me." 

"I  am,  indeed,  your  very  devoted  friend,"  said  the 
Judge,  patting  the  little  hand  on  his  arm,  "but  these 
are  somber  thoughts  for  a  lassie  under  a  sky  like  this. 
Come,  we  will  go  back  to  Cousin  Nellie.  I  defy  specu- 
lation to  flourish  near  that  fountain  of  sunlit  common 
sense.  Ah,  my  dear,  there's  a  woman  for  you  —  the 
best  and  dearest  in  the  world ;  but  had  you  whispered 
your  eternal  'why'  to  her,  she  would  have  made  you 
first  show  your  tongue  and  then  take  a  dose  of  calomel." 

At  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  the  first  sign  of  land 
appeared,  and  with  it  the  first  misty  hint  of  the  great 
city.  Judge  Henry  had  carried  his  companions  to  the 
prow  of  the  ship.  He  was  positively  excited. 

"We  are  going  to  see  it  first  with  a  touch  of  the  eve- 
ning mist,  and  then  in  the  glory  of  sunset,"  he  exclaimed. 
"Nothing  could  be  more  perfect." 

"I  don't  believe  I'm  looking  at  it  now,"  said  Cousin 
Nellie,  as  the  great  spires  and  domes  and  lower  rec- 
tangles grew  into  shape.  "I  feel  that  like  the  old  Maine 
farmer,  who  saw  his  first  camel,  'There  ain't  no  such 
animal ! '  Well,  I  wonder  what  old  London's  got  to 
show  beside  this !" 


38o  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"  It  is,  indeed,  overpowering,"  murmured  Judge  Henry. 
"  I  find  myself  humbled,  —  dazed  before  it,  —  not  so 
much  at  sight  of  the  material  achievement,  as  in  realiz- 
ing the  power  and  the  glory  of  man's  creative  mind. 

"  '  For  out  of  Thought's  interior  sphere,'  " 
he  began  to  quote,  in  a  low,  reverent  voice, 

"  '  These  wonders  rose  to  upper  air ; 
And  Nature  gladly  gave  them  place, 
Adopted  them  into  her  race 
And  granted  them  an  equal  date 
With  Andes  and  with  Ararat.' " 

Ariadne  could  not  speak.  She  held  her  cousin's 
arm  tightly,  staring  out  with  her  soul  in  her  young 
eyes,  thinking  of  the  things  he  had  said. 

"Of  course  we've  seen  it  from  Staten  Island  and  the 
New  Jersey  ferries,"  went  on  Mrs.  Henry,  "but  some- 
how it  is  entirely  different,  coming  on  it  like  this  from 
the  big  ocean." 

"How  white  it  looks  —  how  strangely  unsubstantial ! " 
said  Ariadne. 

"It  will  grow  more  so,  as  the  gold  behind  it  deepens 
into  sunset,"  answered  the  Judge. 

"I  wonder  if  those  building  magicians  will  ever  man- 
age to  rise  higher  into  upper  air,"  speculated  Cousin 
Nellie.  "Look  at  the  Aquarium  —  like  a  big,  low 
toadstool  at  the  very  end.  And  the  immense  block  of 
the  emigrant  building.  Do  you  see  that  tall  one  with 
two  square  tops,  Ariadne?"  she  cried,  catching  the 
girl's  other  arm.  "There,  there,  a  little  to  the  right  of 
the  Woolworth  tower,"  she  pointed. 

"With  sort  of  little  gnome  caps  on  it?"  asked  Ari- 
adne, sharing  her  eagerness. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  381 

"Yes,  that's  the  one.  Well,  in  a  floor  there,  quite  far 
up  —  there  are  thirty  floors,  I  believe  —  Randolph 
Carr  has  his  office." 

"Has  he  ?"  the  girl  managed  to  reply  quite  naturally. 
Then  her  eyes  closed  for  an  instant.  The  tall  buildings 
were  reeling.  When  she  looked  again,  it  seemed  to 
her  as  if  the  airy  battlements  must  have  crumbled. 
The  one  name,  shattering  through  nerves  already  tense 
with  excitement,  might  have  struck  through  like  a 
sword  the  phantom  structures  of  the  outer  world.  She 
took  her  hand  from  the  Judge's  arm  and  leaned  forward 
heavily  upon  the  rail. 

As  from  a  great  distance  came  Mrs.  Henry's  brisk 
voice,  saying  to  her  husband:  "I'll  have  to  run  down 
to  my  cabin  for  a  minute.  I  haven't  tipped  the  steward- 
ess yet." 

"  I  must  go  too  ;  will  you  come,  Ariadne  ?" 

"No  —  leave  me  here,  please.  I  want  to  look  at 
Ararat  a  little  longer." 

When  they  had  gone  she  threw  back  her  head,  breath- 
ing deeply.  She  deliberately  looked  again  toward  the 
nearing  towers,  where  probably  at  this  very  moment 
Randy  Carr  bent  his  rough,  bronze  head  over  a  law- 
yer's desk.  Now,  out  of  the  whole  of  this  incredible 
city,  this  building  alone  was  real.  Randy,  the  man  whom 
she  had  thought  her  true  lover,  the  one  man  in  the 
world  she  could  have  loved,  was  sitting  at  his  desk 
engrossed  in  things  which  she  would  never  know  — 
ignorant  of  her  nearness  and,  should  he  dream  it,  indif- 
ferent and  unconcerned. 

"I  will  not  tremble  this  way,  just  to  think  of  him," 
she  told  herself  fiercely.  "He  was  ungenerous  and 
unjust.  He  never  really  cared.  I  still  have  home  to 
love  and  the  dear  people  waiting  for  me.  I  will  not 


382  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

stop  in  New  York  a  single  day.  The  one  thing  I  could 
not  bear  would  be  seeing  him  again  !" 

She  turned  and  hurried  down  to  find  Mrs.  Henry. 

"Are  you  going  right  down  home  the  minute  we 
land  ?  "  she  demanded  of  that  astonished  lady. 

"  Good  gracious  child,  how  you  scared  me !  Cer- 
tainly not.  We  won't  get  all  our  trunks  to  the  hotel 
by  morning." 

"Couldn't  Cousin  Judge  check  mine  right  through 
from  the  wharf  to  Virginia  and  let  me  go  on  alone? 
I've  got  several  handbags,  and  Mr.  Crane's  pipe  is  in 
one  of  them." 

"You  take  my  breath  away,  child.  There's  your 
cousin  Judge  now.  You'd  better  ask  him." 

It  was  finally  arranged  that  Ariadne  was  to  secure 
what  luggage  she  could  and  start  by  an  early  morning 
train  for  the  South.  Judge  Henry  had  business  which 
would  keep  him  in  New  York  for  several  days,  and  Mrs. 
Henry  did  not  wish  to  leave  him. 

"I  think  it  is  somehow  more  appropriate  for  you  to 
make  your  entry  into  Allan  Water  alone,"  admitted 
that  lady.  "All  the  same,"  she  added,  with  a  look  of 
puzzled  inquiry  that  made  the  girl  flush,  "since  you've 
taken  seven  years  to  get  there,  I  can't  see  why  a  day 
or  two  more  makes  such  a  lot  of  difference." 

"  It  may  be  silly,  Cousin  Nellie,  but  I  assure  you  that 
I  must  get  home.  I  can't  wait.  I  don't  want  to  be 
in  New  York  an  hour  longer  than  I  have  to.  Please 
be  good  to  me  and  help  me  go." 

"All  right,  honey,  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it," 
said  the  older  woman,  smiling.  But  deeper  than  the 
light  words  was  the  thought:  "All  this  flurry  and 
excitement  came  on  you  after  I  mentioned  Randy 
Carr.  Now  I  wonder  — " 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  383 

"It's  Virginia,  it's  Virginia,"  sang  the  girl's  heart 
the  next  morning,  as  she  opened  her  eyes  to  dew-spar- 
kling fields  and  great,  solemn  groves  of  trees.  For 
Cousin  Nellie  had  been  better  than  her  words,  and  the 
girl  had  secured  a  drawing-room  on  the  midnight  express 
to  Washington.  From  there  it  was  a  comparatively 
short  trip  to  the  Allan  Water  station. 

"It  is  already  Virginia,"  she  told  herself  over  and  over 
again.  "That  is  Virginia  grass  springing  from  the 
blessed  red  earth,  and  these  cedar  trees  have  roots  deep 
in  the  soil  I  love.  Oh,  when  I  get  there,  I  shall  be  like 
Ulysses  at  Ithaca.  I  shall  kiss  the  earth  and  lift  hand- 
fuls  to  my  face.  I  don't  believe  even  mud  will  stop 
me." 

She  dressed  quickly,  stooping  down  again  and  again 
to  peer  from  the  windows  still  shaded  by  the  upper 
berth,  and  thrilled  to  familiar  names  and  landmarks. 
She  repacked  her  main  dressing-bag  and  laid  Mr. 
Crane's  imposing  leather  case  upon  it.  "I  suppose 
I  had  better  eat  breakfast ;  I  shall  need  it,"  she  said 
aloud,  and  then:  "Oh,  maybe  I  can  get  some  real 
hominy  !" 

As  her  own  station  neared,  she  felt  her  hands  grow 
cold  with  excitement.  Her  young  throat  filled  with 
something  that  felt  like  cotton-wool,  but  none  the  less 
suffocating. 

"I  know  I'm  going  to  embrace  Mr.  Crane!"  she 
thought  and  then  laughed  at  her  own  childishness. 
She  could  not  be  still  a  moment.  A  new  log  cabin  by 
the  road,  a  door  crowded  with  waving  pickaninnies, 
made  her  want  to  cry.  She  waved  back  vehemently. 
This  being  an  infrequent  recognition,  the  little  darkies 
rushed  out  in  a  body,  gesticulating  madly  and  trying 
to  keep  up  with  the  train.  An  old  negro,  hoeing  to- 


384  ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN  WATER 

bacco,  stared  at  the  bright  face  that  flashed  past  him, 
and  paused  to  wonder  why  any  lady  should  look  so 
happy  to  see  him.  Then  he  shook  his  head,  spat  upon 
his  horny  hands,  and  philosophically  returned  to  his  work. 

The  negro  porter  hurried  up  to  her,  brandishing  the 
inevitable  whisk-broom. 

"Yo'  station  next,  Miss,"  he  announced. 

Ariadne  stood  up.  She  longed  to  enter  into  conver- 
sation with  the  porter,  to  tell  him  that  she  had  been  away 
seven  years,  and  was  coming  back,  as  an  exile,  to  para- 
dise, but  she  only  said:  "Be  sure  you  get  all  the  bags 
and  see  that  my  steamer  trunk  is  put  off."  The  sup- 
pressed inclination  found  vent  in  a  tip  of  such  magnitude 
that  the  porter  showed  every  white  tooth  in  his  head 
and  nearly  brushed  the  hem  off  her  skirt  in  his  renewed 
exertions. 

When  the  train  began  to  slow  down,  Ariadne  thought 
for  a  moment  she  was  dying.  "I  won't  be  able  to  walk 
down  the  car  at  this  rate,"  she  thought  in  terror. 

"Allan  Water,"  called  the  conductor. 

At  that  magic  sound,  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  every- 
thing else  forgotten,  and  in  a  moment  was  grasping  Mr. 
Crane's  small,  freckled  hand.  As  Mrs.  Henry  had  told 
her,  Mr.  Crane  had  scarcely  altered  by  a  hair.  If 
there  were  a  few  more  wrinkles,  especially  along  the 
neck,  Ariadne's  excited  eyes  did  not  see  them.  The 
first  glimpse  of  his  brown-suited  figure  carried  her  back 
to  childhood.  But  whatever  her  own  sense  of  familiar- 
ity, the  little  station  agent  evidently  did  not  share 
it.  After  a  momentary  contact  with  her  gloved  fingers, 
he  backed  away,  looking  up  at  her  with  a  sort  of  in- 
credulity. 

"  Is  it  reely  you,  Miss  Airey  —  Miss  Skip  with  ?  Seems 
to  me  you've  growed  up  a  lot." 


ARIADNE   OF   ALLAN  WATER  385 

" Cose  it's  Miss  Airey,  you  fool, "cried  a  shrill,  feminine 
voice,  as  a  figure  in  bright  green  darted  forward. 

"Who  else  could  it  be,  an'  we  on  the  watch  out  sense 
daybreak.  Howdy,  Miss  Airey.  It  certainly  is  good 
to  have  you  home  again." 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Crane,  I'm  so  happy  to  be  here.  I've 
brought  this  little  scarf  for  you.  There's  a  lot  of  other 
things  in  my  trunks  when  they  come.  And  here's  the 
newest  kind  of  a  pipe  and  things  to  go  with  it  —  from 
London  —  for  Mr.  Crane.  I  brought  it  in  my  own  hands 
so  I  could  give  it  to  him  right  away." 

She  held  it  out.  Mr.  Crane's  hands  were  trembling 
so  that  he  would  have  dropped  it  had  not  his  wife  inter- 
vened. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  anyway,  Jasper 
Crane?"  she  said  severely.  "Miss  Airey  ain't  goin' 
to  bite  !  He's  shaking  like  an  ague,"  she  explained  to 
Ariadne,  a  statement  entirely  unnecessary,  as  the  little 
man's  baggy  knees  threatened  to  give  way  at  any 
moment. 

"Must  a'  bin  that  camomile  tea  she  poured  down  me 
las'  night  —  so  I'd  be  spry  for  you  this  morning,  Miss 
Airey,"  said  the  little  man,  goaded  into  self-defense. 
"It  didn't  work  like  she  said  it  would.  Somehow,  when 
I  seed  you  first  step  off  that  car  —  like  a  —  like  a  — 
like  a  queen,  something  give  way  in  my  innards.  I'm 
all  right  now.  You  needn't  hold  on  to  that  box,  Mrs. 
Crane,"  he  said  angrily,  to  his  still  officious  wife.  "I 
can't  tell  you  how  obleeged  I  am  to  you  fur  thinkin' 
of  me,  Miss  Airey,  an'  I  give  you  a  heartfelt,  lovin' 
welcome  back  to  God's  country." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  found  your  tongue  at  last," 
sniffed  Mrs.  Crane  —  "standin'  there  stutterin'  and 
wobblin'  like  a  dressed-up  skeer-crow.  Thank  you  for 


386  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

my  shawl,  Miss  Airey,"  she  said,  turning  again  to  the 
girl;  "it's  a  beauty.  I  do  love  them  bright  colors; 
seems  to  keep  the  neuralgy  off  a  little  when  I  wear  them." 

"But  where  is  Grandma?  Haven't  they  sent  for 
me?"  cried  the  girl,  looking  along  the  station  platform. 
By  this  time  the  train  was  out  of  sight  and  hearing. 
The  silence  of  the  woods  had  fallen  upon  the  little  group. 
The  snort  of  a  horse  came  from  the  other  side  of  the 
station  building.  As  Ariadne  stepped  toward  it,  from 
round  the  corner  came  a  woolly  head,  the  top  held 
side  wise,  and  this  was  followed  by  two  rolling  eyes  and 
then  dazzling  rows  of  teeth.  Ariadne  gave  a  start. 
The  visage  was  indubitably  that  of  Anguish,  but  what 
was  he  doing  so  high  up  in  the  air  ?  The  child  must  be 
standing  on  a  box ! 

"Anguish!"  she  cried  aloud  to  the  head.  A  long, 
thin  arm  came  out,  a  crane-like  leg,  and  then  the  rest 
of  him. 

"Yassum,  it's  me,"  said  Anguish.  "An'  ole  Miss  is 
settin'  here  in  de  faytum." 

Even  the  miraculous  growth  of  Anguish  had  no  charms 
to  stay  the  girl's  flying  feet. 

"  Grandma  —  Grandma  ! "  she  said,  with  a  cry  that 
was  almost  a  sob. 

"My  little  Ariadne  !  God  be  thanked  for  sparing  me 
until  this  day,"  she  heard  the  old  lady  whisper,  and 
then  for  a  long,  blessed  silence  she  seemed  to  lose  herself 
in  the  warm,  lavender-scented  haven  of  encircling 
arms. 

For  weeks  the  happiness  of  being  once  more  at  home 
and  the  consciousness  of  being  freed  forever  from  the 
malign  influences  of  the  past,  kept  Ariadne's  spirits 
high.  The  selection  of  the  presents  had  been  in  every 
case  an  inspiration.  Uncle  Peter's  joy  in  his  collapsible 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  387 

opera  hat  was  pathetic.  More  than  once  Ariadne, 
coming  out  suddenly  upon  the  kitchen  porch,  had 
surprised  the  two  old  friends,  Mammy  and  her  husband 
—  for  they  had  long  since  reached  that  Indian  summer  of 
a  contented  marriage  —  toying  with  the  absurd  mech- 
anism and  laughing  like  the  children  that  they  were. 

Cousin  Agnes,  at  the  girl's  insistence,  had  agreed  to 
remain.  She  and  Mrs.  Bannister  had  proved  to  be 
unusually  congenial.  For  them  the  seven  years,  so 
long  to  Ariadne,  had  passed  like  so  many  months  re- 
flected in  the  quiet  stream  of  time.  The  one  stone  flung 
by  fate  had  been  the  death  of  the  old  cat,  Doctor  Johnson. 
But  even  this  bereavement  had  its  consolation,  for 
beginning  with  a  few  months  before  his  lamented  demise 
Doctor  Johnson,  with  magnanimous  and  prophetic 
foresight,  had  allowed  himself  to  be  followed  by  a  kitten, 
a  dingy  waif  smuggled  in  by  the  compassionate  Anguish. 
This  animal,  now  rapidly  approaching  cat-manhood, 
was  appropriately  called  "Boswell,"  and  his  super- 
sedure  of  the  departed  idol  was  rapidly  being  accom- 
plished. 

The  two  old  ladies,  sitting  against  the  purple  cushions 
Ariadne  had  brought  them,  with  the  somnolent  Boswell 
between,  could  talk  for  unruffled  hours.  Their  gentle, 
high-bred  voices,  monotonous  as  the  click  of  knitting- 
needles,  droned  in  unbroken  rhythm  except  when,  at 
times,  one  of  them  paused  to  catch  a  dropped  stitch 
of  thought.  There  was  no  house  in  old  Virginia  whose 
ancestry  they  could  not  trace.  No  acorn  ever  fell  from 
a  family  tree  without  recalling  to  their  stored  memories 
the  particular  date  and  the  circumstances  under  which 
other  acorns  had  fallen. 

After  the  first  few  days,  in  which  she  was  the  un- 
disputed center  of  existence,  Ariadne  could  not  help 


388  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

noting  with  what  contented  ease  the  old  life  was  resumed. 
Watching  them  at  their  cribbage,  the  two  charming  old 
faces  peering  down  as  if  their  very  souls  hung  on  the 
setting  of  the  next  small  peg,  the  girl  thought,  just  a 
little  sadly:  "They  love  me  and  are  kind,  but  for  all  I 
really  mean  to  them,  I  might  be  only  another  rose  in 
that  tall  vase!" 

An  enlivening  event  was  Cousin  Nellie's  first  visit. 
She  flew  to  them  radiant,  in  a  new  touring  car.  "I 
won't  have  to  wait  for  poky  trains  after  this,"  she 
exulted.  "I'll  be  popping  in  on  you  any  old  time! 
Yes,  some  of  the  red  clay  roads  are  rather  dreadful, 
but  Judge  Henry  is  stirring  up  the  County  Commis- 
sioners, and  they're  patching  up  the  worst  gulleys 
now." 

Along  with  his  mother  came  Dick  Kyarter.  Ariadne's 
heart  leaped  at  the  sight  of  him.  She  yearned  to  embrace 
him  and  stifled  the  impulse  only  as  a  tribute  to  Dick's 
rapidly  increasing  height  and  undue  assumption  of 
manhood.  The  level  brows  shading  bright,  straight- 
forward, hazel  eyes,  were  terribly  like  those  others  she 
was  not  to  see  again.  Exerting  all  her  arts,  she  tried  to 
keep  the  child  near  her,  but  the  first  glimpse  of  Anguish 
in  his  brass-buttoned,  English  livery  had  recalled,  too 
poignantly,  the  lost  Edgar  Rabbit.  Dick,  scorning  all 
feminine  blandishments,  trotted  at  the  young  negro's 
heels,  and  would  not  be  diverted  until  the  summons  for 
starting  home. 

In  August  Mrs.  Henry  went  to  the  seaside  for  a  visit, 
and  after  her  return  to  Culpeper  was  so  much  engrossed 
with  the  building  of  a  new  and  very  stately  home  that 
in  spite  of  her  touring  car  and  the  mended  highways 
she  did  not  come  to  Allan  Water  for  another  month. 

October  came  in  gently,  spreading  her  golden  largess 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  389 

with  a  generous  hand.  Ariadne  took  long  walks  in 
the  woods  alone.  The  chinquepins  were  peering  like 
bright  brown  eyes  from  prickly  lashes,  and  persimmons 
puckering  into  small  bags  of  autumn  honey.  The 
green  forest  hung  out  tapestries  of  scarlet,  orange,  yellow, 
and  russet  browns.  "He  made  me  think  of  an  October 
day  —  a  young,  October  day,"  the  girl  once  whispered. 
"  Sometimes  the  very  air  is  full  of  him,  and  to  think  — 
we  are  not  even  friends  !"  ^ 

When  finally  Cousin  Nellie  appeared,  all  laughter, 
excuse,  and  apology  for  her  long  neglect,  her  keen 
eyes,  in  spite  of  their  sparkle,  noted  an  unwelcomed 
change  in  Ariadne's  appearance. 

"Is  anything  wrong  with  Airey?  She  doesn't  look 
well,  a  bit !"  asked  Mrs.  Henry  in  her  direct  way,  the 
moment  the  three  elder  ladies  were  to  themselves. 

"My  granddaughter  not  look  well !"  Mrs.  Bannister 
repeated.  "You  must  be  mistaken,  Nellie.  I  have  not 
noticed  any  difference." 

"That's  because  you  see  her  all  the  time.  Well, 
there  is  a  difference.  She's  thinner,  and  I  don't  like  the 
look  in  her  eyes." 

"Perhaps  the  dear  child  does  too  much  reading,", 
ventured  Agnes  Hill.  "Haven't  you  noticed,  Cousin 
Belinda,  that  whenever  she  is  in  here  with  us,  she  has  a 
book  in  her  hands?" 

"I  have,"  returned  Mrs.  Bannister  a  little  stiffly, 
"and  been  most  gratified.  It  will  improve  her  mind; 
and  I  can  safely  assert  that  there  is  nothing  in  her  father's 
or  her  grandfather's  library  which  could,  in  any  way, 
contaminate  it." 

The  old  lady  resented  the  high-handed  way  of  Nellie 
Henry  as  if  she,  and  not  the  grandmother,  had  Ariadne's 
young  life  in  charge. 


.390  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"I  reckon  not!"  rejoined  the  offender  bluntly. 
"I'll  bet  there  isn't  a  book  in  it  dated  since  1865." 

The  girl's  fortuitous  reentrance  at  this  point  pre- 
vented what  might  have  been  an  unseemly  discussion. 

After  this  Mrs.  Henry  came  oftener,  sometimes 
persuading  Ariadne  to  go  back  with  her  to  Culpeper; 
but  with  the  termination  of  each  visit  the  matron's 
kind  heart  grew  more  puzzled  and  more  anxious.  "She 
can't  be  seriously  mourning  for  that  poor,  feeble  Donna," 
Mrs.  Henry  murmured,  frowning.  "No,  there  is  some- 
thing else,  and  I  shall  take  it  upon  myself  to  find  out 
what!" 

A  few  weeks  before  Christmas,  having  sent  a  telegram 
the  previous  day  to  say  that  she  intended  to  appear  for 
luncheon,  Mrs.  Henry,  placing  her  elbows  on  the  charm- 
ingly appointed  table  cleared  now  for  tiny  cups  of 
coffee  and  various  small  dishes  of  bon-bons,  set  her 
gray  eyes  on  her  young  cousin  and  announced:  "Ari- 
adne, I'm  getting  up  an  old-fashioned  housewarming 
for  this  Christmas :  egg-nog,  and  apple-toddy  and  roast 
boar's  head,  with  evening  games,  and  fiddlers  —  Morris 
dances,  a  big  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  of  course  —  all 
those  dear,  comfy,  old  English  jollities  —  and  I've 
simply  got  to  have  you.  Ever  so  many  young  people 
are  to  be  there,  but  I  want  you  several  days  ahead  of 
time  to  help  with  the  arrangements.  Say  you  can 
spare  her,  Cousin  Belinda,"  the  speaker  urged,  turning 
to  the  head  of  the  table. 

"Of  course  we  can,  and  I  am  sure  that  Ariadne  will 
wish  to  go,"  said  the  old  lady  affably. 

"Then  I'm  going  to  count  on  her,"  smiled  Cousin 
Nellie.  "But  Ariadne,  I  do  beg  you  to  drop  those 
inky  garments  and  keep  them  dropped.  You  must 
have  trunks-full  of  pretty  clothes  hid  away." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  391 

Ariadne  looked  down  at  her  black  frock.  Her  face 
had  begun  to  brighten.  "I  suppose  I  might  as  well," 
she  had  started,  when  Mrs.  Henry,  scarcely  knowing 
why,  threw  in  the  statement:  "Randy  Carr  is  to  be 
there." 

Ariadne's  eyes  were  still  on  her  dress.  One  hand 
mechanically  smoothed  a  fold.  But  for  the  slow,  white, 
steady  fingers,  not  an  inch  of  her  moved,  and  yet  Mrs. 
Henry  knew  that  the  whole  poise  of  the  girl's  mind, 
as  well  as  her  body,  had  suddenly  altered.  When  she 
spoke,  it  was  in  a  voice  that  was  entirely  commonplace. 
"Not  this  Christmas,  dear  Cousin  Nellie,  though  I 
thank  you  for  wanting  me.  I  had  forgotten,  for  a  mo- 
ment, how  many  things  there  were  for  me  to  do." 

"For  you  to  do  !  Why,  I  thought  —  The  speaker 
checked  herself  hastily. 

"Indeed  Ariadne  is  busy,"  chirped  Mrs.  Hill,  laying 
an  affectionate  hand  on  her  young  cousin's  shoulder. 
"Her  room  looks  like  a  Christmas  bazaar  this  minute." 

Mrs.  Henry  did  not  lack  her  share  of  feminine  curi- 
osity. "I  did  not  know.  Is  it  a  secret  ? "  she  inquired, 
with  faint  hauteur. 

"No  —  no!"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "I  haven't  any 
secrets.  Only  this  is  something  that  I  couldn't  be  sure 
would  interest  anybody  but  myself  —  and,"  she  added, 
turning  her  sweet,  flushed  face  from  one  to  the  other, 
"Grandma  and  Cousin  Agnes,  of  course.  They  are 
both  helping  me." 

Mrs.  Henry  put  down  her  cup  and  rose.  "Upon  my 
word!"  she  flaunted.  "Things  going  on  here  at 
Allan  Water  and  me  not  told  a  word  !  I  suppose  I 
may  be  allowed  to  see  your  room,  Ariadne  ?" 

Laughing,  the  girl  led  the  way  up-stairs.  Her  bed 
was  a  kaleidoscope.  Toys,  picture-books,  dolls  in  all 


392  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

stages  of  dress  and  of  undress,  small  bracelets,  necklets 
of  beads,  and  scraps  of  ribbon,  silk,  and  velvet  were 
strewn  about  like  a  shattered  stained-glass  window. 
Off  in  one  corner  of  the  room  rose  heaps  of  boxes,  cotton 
wool,  and  wrapping  paper. 

Mrs.  Henry  could  only  stare.  Shyly  the  girl  now 
told  her  of  the  many  European  friendships,  and  when 
Cousin  Nellie's  kind  eyes  shone  with  something  brighter 
than  mere  smiles,  Ariadne  ran  to  her  dresser  and  brought 
out  what  she  called  her  "birthday-book,"  an  album  in 
which  each  child's  name  and  date  were  written.  In 
most  cases  there  were  pictures  of  the  children.  "All 
of  them  taken  with  that  little  kodak  you  sent  me  one 
Christmas  —  you  dear,  dear,  Cousin  Nellie,"  the  photog- 
rapher whispered  lovingly. 

Mrs.  Henry  collapsed  upon  a  teddy-bear.  "Well, 
who  on  earth  !  It  is  simply  the  loveliest  thing  I  ever 
heard  of  !  Ariadne  !  come  here  this  minute  and  kiss 
me  or  I'll  smack  you!" 

"Even  Anguish  gets  excited  over  the  queer,  foreign 
stamps,"  said  the  girl,  laughing  in  sheer  joy  at  Cousin 
Nellie's  appreciation.  "So  the  last  time  I  sent  an  order 
to  New  York  I  bought  him  a  nice  little  stamp-album  with 
the  beginnings  of  a  collection,  and  I'm  going  to  help 
him  make  it." 

Mrs.  Henry's  eyes  became  less  round  and  now  a  little 
quizzical.  "You  begin  to  realize,  Miss  Skipwith,  that 
money  isn't  exactly  a  thing  to  sneeze  at." 

"I  do,"  admitted  the  girl  with  merry  defiance.  "I 
am  getting  to  be  a  regular  spendthrift ;  I  must  have 
twenty  different  catalogues  over  on  the  table.  It's 
such  fun  packing  and  sending  the  things  off,  too ;  and 
as  each  one  goes,  I  just  sit  still  and  think,  for  a  long  time, 
how  the  little  face  will  look  when  my  child-friend  opens 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  393 

it.  I  didn't  mean  to  tell  you  this  before,  Cousin  Nellie, 
but  I've  got  the  loveliest,  great,  star-spangled  balloon 
for  Dick  you  ever  saw  !" 

"Ariadne  does  not  tell  you  of  her  more  substantial 
gifts,"  interposed  Mrs.  Bannister  with  fond  pride. 
"The  wretched  European  peasant  families  that  she 
aids,  and  the  poor  about  us  here  at  Allan  Water.  There's 
one  little  girl  over  in  Germany  named  Betje  — " 

"In  Holland,  Grandma,"  the  girl  smiled;  "and 
Betje  is  the  very  dearest  of  them  all.  See,  here  is  her 
picture  on  my  dresser,"  she  cried  excitedly,  running  to 
fetch  the  silver  frame.  "This  is  Betje's  latest,  taken 
on  the  dear  old  grootvader's  knee.  That  means  'grand- 
father,'" she  flashed.  "I  have  to  keep  up  my  lan- 
guages so  I  can  write  to  them  all.  Those  are  two  of  my 
best,  best  friends." 

"I  should  say  so.  You  have  made  that  Dutch  child 
an  heiress,"  put  in  Mrs.  Hill  complacently. 

"This  is  all  very  nice,"  Mrs.  Henry  remarked,  as  the 
first  surge  of  her  enthusiasm  ebbed.  "But  I  don't  see 
why  dressing  dolls  and  doing  up  packages  should  keep 
Ariadne  away  from  me  at  Christmas.  All  of  these 
things  must  be  posted  at  least  ten  days  before." 

To  this  unanswerable  logic  three  pairs  of  dazed  eyes 
turned  unwilling  admiration.  Ariadne  grew  a  little 
pale,  and  seeing  this,  the  grandmother  went  up  to  her, 
and  holding  her  close,  said  over  one  bowed  young  shoul- 
der:  "I  don't  think  we  are  willing  to  spare  her,  Nellie. 
My  encouragement  when  you  first  suggested  the  visit 
was  a  sacrifice.  I  am  sorry,  but  we  need  her  more  than 
you." 

"Yes,"  seconded  the  girl,  almost  crushing  the  slender 
old  figure  in  her  gratitude,  "I  ought  to  be  here,  at 
home,  for  this  first  Christmas." 


394  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

On  the  way  back  Mrs.  Henry,  alone  in  the  luxurious 
car,  called  herself  harsh  and  inappropriate  names. 
"  Why  in  the  name  of  common  sense  did  I  have  to  men- 
tion Randy  Carr  ?  She  was  coming  before  that.  I 
am  sure  now  that  he  is  the  nigger  in  the  wood-pile. 
But  what  could  have  happened  between  those  two?" 


CHAPTER  VI 

WINTER  went  by  and  another  springtime  came  to 
Allan  Water.  There  had  never  been  a  lovelier  season. 
The  vanished  autumn  coloring  appeared  now  in  tender 
hues  of  pink  leaf  buds,  silver  sheath,  and  gold-green 
catkins.  The  apple  orchard  showed  its  first  folded, 
crimson-tipped  bloom.  With  a  few  days  more  of  sun- 
shine the  fluffy  ballet  skirts  would  again  be  spread, 
and  Ariadne,  if  she  wished,  could  look  down  from  her 
hilltop  on  its  recreated  beauty. 

But  Ariadne  climbed  no  hill.  Even  her  once  loved 
walks  in  the  woods  were  shortened.  By  this  time  both 
Mrs.  Bannister  and  Cousin  Agnes  were  thoroughly 
alarmed  by  her  listlessness  and  pallor,  and  Doctor 
Buford  had  been  sent  over  from  Culpeper  to  prescribe 
for  her.  To  Ariadne's  smiling  assurances  of  being 
entirely  well  and  not  in  the  least  in  need  of  medical 
.attention,  he  found  nothing  very  definite  to  say. 

To  the  grandmother's  anxious  questions  he  replied  that 
there  was  no  organic  trouble.  There  was  no  reason  why 
Miss  Skipwith 'shouldn't  be  in  perfect  health  —  only  — 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  she  wasn't.  Perhaps  a  change  of 
scene  would  be  advisable.  In  the  meantime,  he  would 
have  a  powerful  tonic  sent  over  from  Culpeper,  and 
that,  perhaps,  would  help  somewhat. 

The  day  after  Doctor  Buford's  visit  Mrs.  Henry- 
arrived.  Speeding  up  the  long,  curved  driveway  from 
the  main  entrance,  she  caught  sight  of  Ariadne  standing 


396  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

by  a  little  wicket  gate  set  in  a  youpon  hedge,  and  giving 
out  on  a  pathway  that  made  a  short  cut  to  the  station. 
The  girl  had  an  arm  about  a  wild  cherry-tree  that  stood 
just  within  the  gate,  and  seemed  to  be  looking  at  some- 
thing in  the  bark. 

Hearing  the  motor,  she  gave  a  startled  look,  and 
disappeared. 

"If  she  knew  what  I  had  come  for,  she'd  jump  more 
than  that,"  said  Cousin  Nellie  a  little  grimly.  That 
worthy  matron  had,  in  fact,  reached  the  end  of  her 
patience.  Her  visit  to-day  was  made  in  full  armor, 
with  reserves  of  common  sense  and  determination  behind 
her.  As  she  had  just  said  to  the  Judge,  an  hour  before, 
on  leaving:  "What's  the  use  of  that  silly  Donna  May- 
rant  having  ever  died  at  all,  or  of  Ariadne  being  beautiful 
and  young,  with  more  money  than  she  knows  what  to 
do  with,  if  she's  going  to  spend  her  life  down  in  that  hole 
with  two  old  fossils,  a  bunch  of  negroes,  and  a  cat? 
It  is  high  time  that  some  sensible  person  stepped  in  and 
shook  her  back  to  life,  and  I  shall  make  it  my  business 
to  be  that  person." 

"But  even  you,  incomparable  Minerva,  can't  kidnap 
the  girl  if  she  wants  to  be  let  alone." 

"You  don't  know  what  I  can  do,"  was  the  defiant 
answer.  "Now  just  you  wait  and  see." 

It  was  in  this  mood  that  she  fell  on  Allan  Water. 

The  day  was  warm  and  clear.  The  two  old  ladies  sat 
near  an  open  window,  chatting  and  knitting.  Cousin 
Nellie  was  given  the  usual  affectionate  welcome,  although, 
if  Mrs.  Bannister  could  have  been  made  to  admit  it, 
these  sudden  appearances  were  becoming  rather  trying. 
Nellie  Henry  always  entered  as  if  with  a  rush  of  wings 
and  the  air  of  having  brought  a  remote  firmament  un- 
comfortably near.  As  Cousin  Agnes  had  once  expressed 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  397 

it,  not  without  deprecating  hesitancy:  "Dear  Nellie 
is  a  most  estimable  woman,  most  estimable,  but  when 
she  bids  us  good-by  and  starts  off  in  that  enormous 
automobile,  I  have  a  sensation  as  if  she  were  dragging 
me  after  it !" 

"Thank  you  for  sending  Doctor  Buford,  dear  Nellie," 
said  Mrs.  Bannister,  anxious  to  be  the  first  to  touch 
upon  the  now  painful  topic  of  her  granddaughter's 
lassitude.  It  was  always  comforting  to  get  in  anything 
before  Mrs.  Henry.  "He  assures  us  that  there  is  no 
cause  for  alarm  —  none  whatever." 

"That's  about  what  I  expected,"  said  Mrs.  Henry. 
"He  gave  her  a  spring  tonic,  of  course  —  some  kind  of 
bark  and  iron." 

"I  did  not  question  the  doctor  as  to  the  ingredients 
in  this  prescription,"  replied  the  old  lady  stiffly. 

"Where  is  Ariadne  now?"   asked  Mrs.  Henry. 

Both  ladies  looked  across  the  room  as  if  the  girl  might 
be  concealed  in  it.  Agnes  spoke:  "Why,  I  don't 
know.  She  was  here  a  little  while  ago,  but  Cousin 
Belinda  and  I  got  so  interested  talking  about  that 
new  knitting  cotton,  we  did  not  notice  when  she  left 
us." 

"I  see  her  coming  now  across  the  lawn,"  said  Mrs. 
Bannister. 

Three  pairs  of  eyes  watched  the  slender  figure  as  it 
came,  and  while  all  three  were  troubled,  in  the  eyes  of 
one  at  least  a  spark  of  battle  kindled. 

As  Ariadne  entered  the  room,  Mrs.  Henry  smiled  and 
held  out  her  hand.  "Well,  Ariadne,  I've  come  to  steal 
you." 

"I'm  always  glad  to  be  stolen  —  if  Grandma  doesn't 
need  me.  Do  you  want  me  to  go  back  when  you  do  ?" 

"I'm  not  speaking  of  a  mere  run-over  to  Culpeper. 


398  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

The  Judge  and  I  are  starting  for  New  York,  and  I  want 
you  to  go  with  us  for  a  month  at  least." 

'"Yes,  my  darling,"  said  old  Mrs.  Bannister  eagerly. 
"The  doctor  said  you  needed  a  change  of  scene;  I 
wish  you  to  go." 

"I  can't  —  I  just  can't  go,"  said  Ariadne,  almost 
petulantly  for  her.  "I  don't  want  to  leave  Allan 
Water.  Why  should  I  be  forced  to  when  I  am  well  and 
happy  ? " 

"Not  when  we  all  desire  it?"  put  in  Cousin  Agnes 
with  reproof. 

"Ariadne,  come  here  to  me,"  said  Cousin  Nellie. 

Ariadne  went  slowly.  Mrs.  Henry  caught  both  her 
hands,  pulling  her  forward,  "Look  me  in  the  eyes. 
No  —  straight  in  them,  and  repeat  those  last  words  of 
yours." 

"What  last  words,  Cousin  Nellie?" 

"Don't  pretend ;  you  know  perfectly." 

"I  just  said :  'when  I  am  well  and  happy.'" 

"That's  all,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  releasing  her.  Ariadne 
sat  on  a  low  chair,  a  few  feet  behind  the  visitor. 

"By  the  way,  Cousin  Belinda,"  cried  that  lady,  with  a 
change  of  tone  and  manner  that  was  a  relief  to  all. 
"Have  you  heard  about  Randy  Carr?" 

"  No  —  what  has  happened  ?  " 

"You  remember  him,  of  course?" 

"Very  well,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Bannister.  "He  was 
here  several  times  during  Ariadne's  absence.  We 
became  quite  attached  to  him,  didn't  we,  Agnes?  A 
most  engaging  young  man  and  extremely  good-looking 
for  a  Randolph." 

"You  haven't  heard,  then,  of  this  big  case  he  has  just 
won?"  The  elder  ladies  shook  their  heads.  Mrs. 
Henry  heard  Ariadne's  chair  creep  a  few  inches  closer. 


ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER  399 

"Why,  the  New  York  papers  are  full  of  him.  It  was  a 
most  difficult,  mixed-up  sort  of  thing.  Randy's  client, 
who  was  in  the  right,  of  course,  for  the  boy  won't  take 
any  other  kind,  didn't  seem  to  have  a  chance.  It  was  a 
packed  jury.  People  say  that  even  the  judge  was  pre- 
disposed against  him,  yet  that  boy  got  up  and  by  the 
sheer  power  of  eloquence  and  his  belief  in  the  justice  of 
his  plea,  won  the  whole  court  round  to  his  view  of  it. 
The  people  cheered  him,  and  when  the  judge  summed  up 
the  case  and  gave  the  verdict,  he  said  to  Randy : '  Young 
man,  I  hear  you  are  a  Virginian.'  'I  am,'  said  Randy. 
Can't  you  just  see  how  that  head  of  his  went  up  !  '  Well/ 
said  the  judge,  '  The  Mother  of  Presidents  will  soon  have 
to  make  room  for  another  illustrious  fledgeling.' " 

Before  the  two  white  heads  could  get  together  and 
trace  Randolph's  family  from  its  original  British  cave, 
Mrs.  Henry  added:  "We  are  all  proud  of  him.  Judge 
Henry  struts  like  a  turkey-cock  whenever  the  boy's 
name  is  mentioned.  I'm  devoted  to  Randy.  He  is  a 
dear  in  almost  every  way,  but  what  worries  me  now  is  the 
fear  that  one  of  those  Stockton  girls  will  catch  him." 

"Surely  he  could  not  so  far  forget  himself!"  Cousin 
Belinda  exclaimed. 

"You  never  know  what  a  man  will  do  next,  especially 
if  the  girl  he  really  cares  for  turns  her  back  on  him.  That 
Mr.  Barclay,  senior  partner  of  Randy's  firm,  is  throwing 
his  daughter  Beatrice  at  the  boy's  head  in  a  perfectly 
brazen  manner." 

"Is  —  is  the  girl  pretty  ? "  asked  a  low  voice  at  Cousin 
Nellie's  elbow. 

"She's  a  beauty !  I  could  beat  her  for  it.  And  she 
doesn't  seem  to  care  who  knows  that  she  is  crazy  over 
Randolph  Carr."  Ariadne  was  silent.  "  From  a  worldly 
point  of  view,"  Mrs.  Henry  went  on  to  the  other  ladies, 


400  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"it  would  be  an  excellent  thing  for  Randy.  The  Bar- 
clays are  important  people  —  for  up  there." 

Ariadne  rose  slowly  to  her  feet.  "If  Miss  Barclay  is 
beautiful  and  —  if  she  and  Randolph  love  each  other  — 
I  don't  think  that  anything  should  be  allowed  to  come 
between  them.  I  hope  they'll  marry  and  be  very,  very 
happy." 

"That's  sweet  of  you,  my  dear.  I'll  tell  Randy  the 
next  time  I  see  him."  She  turned  her  merry,  mocking 
face  to  the  girl,  but  at  sight  of  the  quivering  lips  her  kind 
heart  sank.  She  hated  herself  for  her  own  cruelty. 

Now  the  pent  instinct  of  genealogy  claimed  its  own. 
The  tracing  of  Randolph's  ancestry,  though  known  by 
heart,  so  occupied  the  elder  ladies  that  they  scarcely 
noted  the  girl's  absence,  or  the  fact  that  Nellie  Henry  had 
sunk  into  a  heavy  silence. 

In  a  few  moments  the  latter  rose  also.  "No,  don't  get 
up,"  she  said,  "I'm  not  leaving  you  yet.  You  go  on  and 
get  all  Randolph's  forbears  labeled.  I  want  to  speak  to 
Ariadne." 

An  instinct  told  her  where  the  girl  was  to  be  found. 
Yes,  there  she  was,  beside  the  cherry-tree.  Not  now 
with  her  arm  about  it,  but  crouched  at  the  foot,  rocking 
to  and  fro  in  such  an  agony  of  sobs  that  Mrs.  Henry's 
footsteps  were  unnoticed.  She  was  crying  out  broken 
words,  and  that  most  often  repeated  was  "Randy  — 
Randy." 

Moving  swiftly,  so  as  to  hear  as  little  as  possible,  Mrs. 
Henry  stooped  to  the  girl,  lifting  her  up. 

"My  poor,  poor  darling,  I  knew  you  were  breaking 
your  heart.  Now  you  must  tell  me  everything.  You 
must,  dear.  Whatever  this  is,  you  have  borne  it  too 
long  in  silence.  Come,  honey.  Come  with  your  Cousin 
Nellie  to  the  little  summer-house.  Poor  little,  mother- 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  401 

less  lamb.  Don't  try  to  stop  crying ;  it  does  you  good  to 
cry.  Here,  sit  on  the  bench,  and  let  me  keep  my  arms 
around  you.  Poor,  brave,  little  heart  that  has  had  so 
much  to  bear.  Try  —  try  —  to  tell  me.  It  is  bad  to 
shut  up  all  this  grief  in  one's  self." 

"  I  —  I  —  will  tell  you,"  sobbed  the  girl.  "  J-j-just 
as  soon  as  I  c-c-can  talk.  I've  wanted  to  before, 
but  somehow  when  I  tried  I  c-c-couldn't." 

"Yes,  darling,  let  the  tears  come.  No  one  will  think 
of  looking  for  us  here ;  only  I  want  to  say  right  now  that 
Randy  Carr  is  no  more  in  love  with  that  girl  than  you  are 
with  Mr.  Crane."  Upon  these  words,  the  violence  of  the 
sobs  began  instantly  to  lessen.  Cousin  Nellie  smiled 
wisely.  "It  is  Randy,  isn't  it?"  she  whispered. 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  tell  you  that  he  is  quite  as  miserable 
as  you  are  —  the  good-looking  wretch." 

"He  isn't  a  wretch;  he  did  what  he  thought  was 
right." 

"A  fig  for  what  a  man  in  love  thinks  right!"  said 
Cousin  Nellie.  "But  now,  begin  at  the  beginning.  I 
want  to  hear  everything." 

So  Ariadne  told  her  —  shielding  the  man  she  loved  as 
much  as  possible  and  even  defending  poor,  weak  Donna, 
when  the  sympathetic  listener  broke  into  uncontrolled 
invective.  Even  that  darkest  story,  which  Ariadne  had 
never  thought  to  whisper,  was  now  comparatively  easy 
to  tell,  for  it  glorified  Randolph's  act  of  rescue.  When 
she  came  to  Randolph's  break  with  her  and  Cousin 
Nellie  waxed  wroth,  she  said  :  "But  after  all,  you  know, 
he  saved  me." 

"  And  what  of  it  —  if  he  didn't  have  sense  enough  after- 
ward to  stick  to  you  ?  No,  Ariadne,  you  needn't  defend 
him.  Of  all  the  blind  idiots,  of  all  the  smirking  prigs 


402  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

that  ever  lived,  at  this  particular  moment  he  seems  to  me 
the  most  exasperating.  I'm  glad  he  has  suffered.  He's 
got  thin,  and  his  cheeks  are  sunken.  He  looks  as  if  all 
his  jaw  teeth  had  fallen  out  at  once.  Maybe  when  you 
see  him  again  you  won't  want  him,  he's  so  ugly." 

"I  shall  never  see  him  again.  Our  parting  was  irrev- 
ocable." 

"You  got  that  word  out  of  a  book  I  sent  you,"  said 
Cousin  Nellie.  "Nothing  in  this  world  but  death  is 
irrevocable.  You  will  see  him  again,  and  you'll  see  him 
on  his  marrow  bones,  begging  for  his  happiness.  Just 
wait  until  I  get  hold  of  that  young  man."  Her  lips 
came  together  in  a  line  that  spoke  ill  for  Randy. 

"Oh,  you  would  speak  of  this!"  cried  Ariadne  in 
horror.  "You  couldn't  betray  my  confidence.  Promise 
me,  Cousin  Nellie,  promise  me." 

"Now,  look  here,  Ariadne  Skipwith,"  said  Mrs.  Henry, 
"I'm  no  virgin  bound  to  a  rock  by  other  people's  fool 
promises.  I'm  a  woman  with  just  a  little  common  sense 
—  and  fortunately,  common  sense  is  what  the  present 
situation  needs.  Of  course  I'm  going  to  see  him,  and 
after  I'm  through  with  him,  he'll  wish  he'd  never  been 
born.  It's  better,  taking  all  things  into  consideration, 
that  you  are  not  going  with  me  to  New  York.  Well," 
she  said,  getting  to  her  feet,  "I've  got  to  be  bouncing 
home.  You  stay  here  till  the  red  fades  from  your  eyes. 
It  will  worry  Cousin  Belinda  if  she  sees  you  have  been 
crying.  When  that  tonic  comes,  you'd  better  begin 
taking  it.  The  stuff  can't  hurt  you,  and  it  may  bring 
some  color  back  into  your  face.  I  want  you  to  look 
pretty  in  the  next  few  days." 

Before  the  petrified  girl  could  stop  her,  she  was  sailing 
across  the  lawn. 

Ariadne  sank  back  to  the  bench  and  sat,  crouched 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  403 

together.     The  power  of  thought  seemed,  for  a  moment, 
to  have  left  her. 

She  heard  a  motor  whiz  along  the  curved  carriage 
road.  A  white  something  fluttered  from  the  side,  and 
she  knew  Cousin  Nellie  was  signaling  a  triumphant 
farewell. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  general  moral  atmosphere,  so  to  speak,  of  Allan 
Water  and  its  little  group  of  human  souls  might  be 
characterized  —  at  least  when  Cousin  Nellie  remained 
away  —  as  that  of  amiable  placidity.  That  vigorous 
matron,  however,  had  the  knack  of  carrying  her  own 
atmosphere  along.  Wherever  she  moved  and  breathed, 
dull  elements  quickened,  as  if  her  cheeerful  personality 
had  been  a  tuning  fork  to  strike  out  from  murmuring 
harp-strings  a  series  of  new  vibrations. 

A  few  days  after  her  latest  visit  to  the  old  Virginian 
house,  at  a  moment  exactly  synchronous  in  time,  though 
marked  on  the  two  presiding  clocks  by  different  hours, 
these  two  scenes  were  being  enacted.  In  the  living- 
room  at  Allan  Water,  where  the  long  onyx  clock  on  the 
mantel  had  just  sent  forth  two  silvery  strokes,  Mrs. 
Bannister,  leaning  confidently  across  the  just  cleared 
luncheon  table,  her  smiling  lips  parted  for  speech,  waited 
a  moment  longer  until  Ariadne,  who  had  left  the  room, 
should  be  well  out  of  hearing,  and  then  said  to  Cousin 
Agnes: 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  greater  improvement  than  has 
come  to  our  dear  Ariadne  since  she  has  been  taking 
Doctor  Buford's  tonic?" 

"It  is  a  miracle  —  a  perfect  miracle,"  assented  the 
equally  pleased  Cousin  Agnes.  "She  was  actually  sing- 
ing as  she  went  out.  I  think  it  was  the  ballad  of  Allan 
Water." 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  405 

Mrs.  Bannister  drew  herself  upward  with  a  more  de- 
cisive air. 

"I  wish  Nellie  Henry  could  have  heard  her.  Perhaps 
this  transformation  would  have  some  effect  upon  dear 
Nellie's  rather  ultra  modern  ideas.  I  find  it  somewhat 
deplorable  when  a  woman  like  Nellie,  just  because  she 
has  seen  the  world,  thinks  it  her  privilege  to  belittle  old- 
fashioned  ways  and  methods.  Here  of  late  you  cannot 
mention  Doctor  Buford's  name  to  her  without  getting  a 
sniff  in  reply.  And  yet,  see  how  instantly  he  understood 
my  granddaughter's  case." 

"Yes,"  assented  Mrs.  Hill,  "Nellie  has  excellent  quali- 
ties, of  course,  but  some  of  her  advanced  ideas  do  not 
become  one  of  our  family." 

At  the  same  instant,  the  mildly  maligned  Virginian, 
unconscious  and  had  she  known  it,  careless  of  this  anti- 
quated disapproval,  was  bending  her  dark  head,  with  its 
few  gleams  of  silver,  over  an  enormous  red  telephone 
book  in  a  New  York  hotel.  "C  —  C  —  A  —  B  —  C  — 
Ca,"  she  murmured.  "Gracious  !  What  a  lot  of  Carrs 
in  this  book  !  Adam  Carr  —  Amos  —  John  —  Peter  — 
Thomas  —  here  are  the  R's  at  last ;  Ralph  —  Randolph 
-  here  he  is  !  Randolph  Carr.  I'm  glad  he's  got  his 
private  business  wire.  Wonder  if  he's  out  to  lunch  yet. 
What  time  is  it  ?  "  She  glanced  down  from  the  window, 
near  which  a  writing-desk  with  the  flexible  desk  tele- 
phone was  placed,  and  along  the  opposite  pavement  of 
Fifth  Avenue  where,  on  the  edge  of  the  pavement  facing 
a  jeweler's  shop,  stood  a  rather  huge  open-faced  watch 
set  in  black  metal,  and  held  up  by  a  single  black  pillar, 
the  height  of  an  old-fashioned  lamp-post. 

"Just  one  o'clock,"  she  murmured.  "Perhaps  I  can 
catch  him.  Central  —  Hullo!  Give  me  3234,  Yes. 
Thrrree  —  two  —  thrreee  —  foah  !  The  way  these  New 


406  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"York  telephone  girls  have  taken  to  rolling  their  R's  in 
three  makes  'em  sound  like  electric  fan's.  Is  that  3234? 
May  I  speak  with  Mr.  Carr  ?  Oh,  is  that  you,  Randy  ? 
Yes,  it's  me  —  it's  Mrs.  Nellie.  Oh,  you  needn't  begin 
flattering  me  over  this  distance,  how  could  any  human 
voice  sound  like  the  smell  of  fresh  cookies?  I  know  I 
used  to  stuff  you.  I  want  to  see  you  just  as  soon  as 
possible.  Well,"  she  exclaimed,  "there's  nothing  like 
being  ready !  Come  at  once  then.  But  listen,  you'd 
better  stop  for  a  bite  of  lunch.  I've  had  mine.  Even 
if  I  hadn't,  I  don't  want  to  talk  to  you  through  mutton 
chops.  It's  too  important.  Never  mind  what  it  is.  I 
can't  talk  over  the  'phone,  either.  You'll  be  here  in 
thirty  minutes.  Have  them  show  you  up  at  once  to 
suite  501.  Good-by." 

Mrs.  Henry  rose,  rang  the  bell  to  have  her  simple 
luncheon  tray  removed,  and  then  began  to  make  herself 
and  the  room  more  tidy.  Usually  she  disdained  acces- 
sories, but  this  occasion,  being  one  of  great  importance, 
might  as  well  be  given  a  congenial  setting. 

Hurriedly  she  changed  her  traveling  coat  suit  for  a  one- 
piece  gown  of  black,  a  little  opened  to  show  her  full  and 
still  beautiful  throat.  Her  hair,  parted  in  the  middle 
and  drawn  back  to  its  usual  dark  coil,  was  rearranged, 
the  knot  lowered,  and  the  long  loops  at  the  side  brought 
forward.  "That  gives  me  a  more  subdued  and  saintly 
look,"  she  said  to  her  own  reflected  image.  "I  want 
to  begin  with  pathos  and  the  soft  pedal  down ;  it  will 
make  the  contrast  more  effective.  I  wish  I  hadn't 
sounded  so  cheerful  over  the  'phone.  But  that  ridicu- 
lous boy  and  his  cookies  !" 

Mrs.  Henry  again  laughed,  but  catching  sight  of  her 
face  in  doing  so,  became  instantly  sober,  and  gazed  with 
disapproval  at  the  reflected  image.  "I  look  like  a  full 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  407 

moon,"  she  grumbled.  "I  wish  there  wasn't  so  much 
color  in  my  cheeks."  She  opened  her  shopping-bag  and 
took  out  a  booklet  of  powder-leaves.  Having  exhausted 
several  of  these  useful  sheets,  the  fresh  pink  of  her  face 
attained  a  more  delicate  shading. 

Going  to  the  windows,  she  pulled  down  shades  until 
the  room  was  in  a  satisfactory  condition  of  gloom. 
"I'll  sit  there  first,"  she  murmured,  nodding  toward 
the  end  of  a  sofa,  "and  I'll  make  that  pig-headed 
youth  sit  in  a  straight  chair  opposite.  Later  on,  he  will 
probably  be  writhing  on  the  sofa,  clutching  at  my 
hands.  I  hope  so!"  she  said  viciously.  "The  idea 
of  setting  himself  up  to  judge  that  poor,  loyal  child. 
I  don't  care  if  he  bellows  !  Now,  I  wish  he'd  hurry 
up  and  come.  I  long  to  go  to  it,  as  Dick  Kyarter 
would  say." 

Again  she  leaned  toward  the  window,  and  seeing  the 
clock  hands  pointing  to  half-past  one,  went  rather  hur- 
riedly to  her  allotted  corner  of  the  sofa.  She  was  scarcely 
there  before  Randy's  knock  came.  He  entered,  all 
eagerness  and  brown  sparkles,  to  be  met  by  an  out- 
stretched hand,  a  patient  smile,  and  a  murmured:  "So 
good  of  you  to  come,  dear,"  that  might  all  have  been 
imported  from  a  London  drawing-room. 

Much  taken  aback,  he  shook  the  up-curved  fingers 
and  sank  to  the  high  stiff  chair  that  was  his  portion. 

"I  hope  there  is  nothing  wrong,  Miss  Nellie,"  he  said, 
after  the  old  Virginian  custom  of  calling  married  ladies 
"Miss." 

"Well,  there  is,"  said  Mrs.  Henry  somberly;  "we  are 
all  worried  to  death." 

"Has  Cousin  Judge  been  losing  money?" 

"Money!  Certainly  not.  Money  wouldn't  worry 
me,  anyway." 


408  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Dick  Carter  isn't  — "  he  ventured,  and  then 
paused. 

"Dick  Kyarter  is  all  right.  He  isn't  with  us  this  trip. 
The  Judge  is  all  right,  too." 

Randy  began  to  look  distressed.  What  could  it  be 
that  kept  the  smiles  so  long  from  the  kindly  face  before 
him  ?  She  looked  as  if  she  had  just  come  from  a  funeral. 

"Of  course,"  she  murmured,  "it  may  not  interest  you 
very  deeply.  But  then  we  are  all  Virginians  together  — 
and  have  that  clan  feeling,"  she  paused  and  sighed 
heavily. 

"You  know  how  I  feel  toward  my  home  people,"  the 
young  man  cried.  His  thick  brows  were  together  now, 
and  his  eyes  looked  puzzled. 

"Well  —  it  is  Ariadne." 

"Ariadne  !"  he  echoed.  She  saw  him  take  his  under 
lip  between  his  teeth.  "What  is  wrong  with  Ariadne  ?" 

"Oh,  nothing  much,"  said  this  exasperating  woman. 
"Only  if  this  sort  of  thing  keeps  up,  she  won't  live 
through  another  year." 

Randolph  kept  perfectly  still.  Not  a  finger  trembled, 
but  Mrs.  Henry  saw,  rejoicing  to  observe  it,  that  a  sickly 
pallor  spread  across  his  face  until  the  very  lips  were  livid. 

"I  had  not  heard  that  she  was  ill.  Surely  —  as  young 
as  she  is  —  nothing  can  be  very  serious  ?  " 

"That's  the  kind  of  thing  that  doctors  —  and  you 
blind  bats  of  men  —  love  to  say  ! "  remarked  Mrs.  Henry. 
"She  hasn't  consumption,  or  measles,  or  leprosy  —  or 
anything  you  can  give  a  name  to  —  but  she's  dying  just 
the  same ;  and  when  you're  dead,  you're  dead." 

"This  —  this  is  simply  awful,"  said  the  young  man. 
"  Pardon  me  if  I  rise  and  go  to  the  window ;  the  room 
seems  close." 

"I  won't  be  sorry  for  him,  I  won't,"  Mrs.  Henry  was 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  409 

saying  angrily.  She  dug  her  nails  into  the  tapestry  of  the 
sofa. 

"Have  you  any  idea  what  has  caused  it?"  he  asked, 
coming  back  in  a  few  moments  and  hovering  miserably 
near. 

Mrs.  Henry  hesitated.  "All  through  this  winter  her 
pallor  and  lassitude  have  been  increasing,"  she  began, 

"Yes?"     He  again  took  the  high-backed  chair. 

"Her  grandmother  and  I  hoped  it  was  only  an  inevi- 
table reaction  from  the  strain  of  those  last  weeks  abroad." 

Randolph's  eyes  went  to  the  Axminster  carpet.  He 
said  nothing. 

"You  realize,  I  suppose,  that  she  had  been  under  a 
strain,"  said  Mrs.  Henry  rather  sharply. 

"Yes,  I  realize  it." 

Mrs.  Henry  fidgeted  in  her  corner.  "In  another 
instant  I  shall  throw  this  inkstand  at  him.  I  know  I 
shall,"  she  thought.  "I  can't  hold  in  any  longer.  But 
I  must  think  what  I'm  saying.  I  must  remember  it's 
all  for  Ariadne." 

"I  believe  you  met  the  stepmother  and  that  creature 
who  called  himself  Martel?" 

"I  met  them  both,"  said  Randolph.  "It  was  at  the 
Hague  just  before  I  sent  the  cables  urging  you  and 
Cousin  Judge  to  come." 

"You  saw  them  both  then;  and  you  knew  that  for 
seven  years  a  girl  like  Ariadne  Skipwith  had  been  dragged 
around  Europe  at  their  cart- tail." 

"Yes,  I  knew  it.  I  saw  the  horror  for  myself.  I  tried 
to  get  Ariadne  away  from  them,  but  she  refused  to  accept 
my  plans."  His  voice  was  scarcely  audible,  and  the 
increasing  pallor  had  become  a  uniform  gray  tone,  a  sort 
of  death  mask  through  which  the  tortured,  living  eyes  of 
the  man  stood  out. 


4io  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"Do  you  know  why  she  refused  ?" 

"  She  gave  no  explanation ;  I  had  no  choice  but  to  go." 

"You  had  no  choice  !"  commented  the  other  bitterly. 
"Do  you  suppose  she  had  any?  That  was  a  time  when 
any  friend  who  had  a  spark  of  sincerity  or  manhood  in 
him  should  have  stuck  so  close  that  nothing  this  side  of 
dynamite  could  budge  him.  When,  afterward,  you 
heard  of  that  wretched  Donna's  death  and  the  cause  of  it, 
didn't  you  begin  to  see  why  Ariadne  could  not  explain  ?  " 

"I  have  never  heard  particulars.  I  didn't  want  to 
hear.  Miss  Nellie,"  he  cried,  throwing  aside  with  both 
hands  his  shadowy  defenses,  "don't  torture  me  !  I  love 
Ariadne.  I  have  loved  her  from  the  first  minute  I  saw 
her  at  the  Hague.  I  believe  I've  loved  her  ever  since 
I  said  good-by  to  her  as  a  child,  under  a  cherry-tree  at 
Allan  Water.  Perhaps  even  you  don't  know  what  her 
life  was  with  these  people.  I  did  help  her  —  I  got  to  her 
just  in  time,  but  afterward  I  told  her  that  she  could  not 
stay  near  that  man.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  allow 
it ;  I  told  her  so  quite  plainly.  She  —  she  had  already 
promised  to  be  my  wife."  His  head  went  down  in  his 
hands  at  this,  as  a  groan  of  agony  came  from  him.  "I  — 
I  worshiped  her  —  I  love  her  yet ;  but  she  did  the  one 
thing  I  cannot  overlook." 

11  "You  —  you  cannot  overlook!"  said  Mrs.  Henry, 
her  nostrils  whitening  with  indignation.  "You  took 
that  tragic,  starved  young  life  into  your  hands,  promising 
eternal  love  and  faith  and  shielding.  You  held  before 
it  the  one  gleam  of  happiness  it  had  ever  known  —  and 
then,  because  you  were  not  capable  of  seeing  the  sweetest 
depths  of  the  treasure  you  had  won  —  you  threw  it 
down,  as  I  might  throw  a  sofa-pillow."  Here  she  hurled 
the  nearest  to  the  floor.  "You  —  who  consider  yourself 
a  man  of  honor — " 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  411 

She  got  to  her  feet,  trembling  with  the  righteousness  of 
her  attack.  She  seemed  to  soar  above  him  like  an  angry 
goddess.  But  the  young  man,  too,  had  his  own  fire. 

"Not  even  a  woman  can  be  allowed  to  use  that  tone 
to  me,  Mrs.  Henry,"  he  said,  with  flashing  eyes.  "It 
was  because  of  my  honor  that  I  had  to  leave." 

Mrs.  Henry  put  her  hand  across  her  eyes  for  a  moment. 

"Don't  let  us  quarrel,  Randy.  After  all,  it  is  Ariadne  we 
must  think  of.  But  when  you  say  —  honor  —  Well," 
she  paused,  and  something  like  a  smile  touched  her  lips  — 
"I  am  wondering  whether  there  has  ever  lived  a  man  — 
you,  or  Judge  Henry,  or  all  our  line  of  Virginia  presidents 
rolled  into  one,  who  could  have  kept  faith  as  that  young 
girl.  Honor  !  You  don't  know  what  it  means  !  With 
you  men  it  is  something  to  bluster  about  —  a  shining 
medal  that  you  pin  to  a  frock  coat,  for  public  ceremonies. 
You  talk  about  it,  and  I  know  you  think  you  have  it. 
Maybe  you  have,  in  your  own  way,  but  for  Ariadne  it 
has  been  through  all  these  years  of  life  her  attendant 
spirit.  I'm  sure  that  when  the  angels  looked  at  her  they 
always  saw  it — a  tall,  bright  presence  bending  over  her — 
its  face  beautiful,  I  know,  and  often  pitiful  —  but  the 
scourge  was  always  in  its  hand.  Oh,  it  breaks  my  heart 
to  think  of  it." 

Her  voice  trembled,  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed  as 
if  she  must  give  way  to  tears.  Then  her  chin  went  up 
again.  Young  Carr  stood  before  her,  his  head  dropped 
like  that  of  a  man  listening  to  his  own  death  sentence. 

"She  kept  faith  with  her  father,"  Mrs.  Henry's  low, 
vibrant  voice  went  on.  "For  seven  years  of  absolute 
self-sacrifice  she  held  up  that  feeble  creature's  hands, 
because  her  father  asked  it.  She  endured  —  you  know 
what  she  endured  from  that  man  Patredis — " 

"For  God's  sake  !"  said  the  tortured  man. 


4i2  ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER 

"And  she  kept  faith  with  you,"  went  on  the  low  voice 
mercilessly.  "It  was  there  at  the  Hague  that  Donna 
Mayrant  first  learned  the  nature  of  the  malady  that  was 
so  soon  to  kill  her.  Ariadne  was  her  only  confidant; 
and  in  that  first  distress,  she  made  the  girl  promise  not 
to  betray  to  any  one  the  horrible  thing  that  had  just  been 
told  her.  Ariadne  promised,  of  course.  She  has  wasted 
her  young  life  making  promises  to  people  not  fit  to  lick 
her  boots.  Along  with  it  she  had  given  her  word  to 
remain  with  Donna  until  the  London  specialist  had 
been  consulted." 

"Don't  tell  me  any  more,"  said  the  man,  groping  out 
blindly;  "it  is  all  terribly  clear." 

He  sank  down,  unable  to  keep  his  feet  for  trembling. 
Mrs.  Henry  looked  down  upon  her  victim.  All  her 
arrows  had  struck  home.  Perhaps  there  is  a  streak  of 
cruelty  latent  in  the  kindest  heart,  for  it  is  certain  that, 
at  this  moment,  Cousin  Nellie,  recalling  a  certain  huddled 
figure  at  the  foot  of  a  cherry-tree,  positively  reveled  in 
this  corresponding  agony  of  spirit. 

"What's  to  be  done  now  ?  "  the  man  asked  her,  lifting 
haggard  eyes.  "She'll  never  listen  to  me;  she  cannot 
forgive  me,"  he  groaned. 

"Of  course  she  shouldn't!"  assented  the  other 
viciously ;  "in  her  place,  I'd  see  you  tarred  and  feathered 
first.  But  then— " 

He  looked  up  at  the  pause.  At  last  the  smile  he  so 
well  remembered  was  on  her  lips.  "I  am  not  Ariadne," 
she  added  gently. 

He  sprang  up,  seizing  both  plump  hands.  "You 
mean  — 

"I  mean  that  the  child  is  breaking  her  heart  for  you." 

"I'll  catch  the  night  train  South!"  cried  Randolph, 
hurrying  to  the  door. 


ARIADNE  OF  ALLAN  WATER  413 

Laughing,  she  kept  him  by  one  hand. 

"  Remember,  you're  to  grovel  first,"  she  admonished. 

"  Oh,  I'll  grovel  —  I'll  flagellate  myself ;  that  guardian 
angel  won't  be  in  it  when  I  get  my  cat-o'-nine-tails 
swinging.  I'll  do  anything,  if  only  there's  a  chance  of 
winning  her  back!"  Across  the  room  he  turned, 
rushed  back  to  her  and  flung  both  arms  around  her, 
then  he  was  gone. 

" Heavens!"  gasped  that  lady,  when  she  regained 
sufficient  breath  to  speak,  "  I  feel  like  a  bale  of  compressed 
cotton."  Then,  lifting  a  photograph  of  Ariadne  that  had 
been  conspicuously  placed  on  the  center  table,  she 
whispered  :  "Honey,  it's  all  come  right  at  last." 

Somehow  he  knew  that  she  would  be  at  the  little 
wicket  gate  in  the  youpon  hedge.  At  first  it  was 
only  a  glimpse  of  the  dark  blue  skirt  he  caught.  At 
the  sight,  he  stepped  from  the  pathway,  taking  a 
longer,  individual  path  among  the  cedars.  He  wanted 
to  come  upon  her  suddenly.  All  the  warmth  of 
the  summer  day  rushed  through  his  heart.  A  mock- 
ing-bird, swaying  from  a  tree-top,  whistled  through  the 
fragrant  silence  like  a  bugle. 

Then,  because  he  was  a  lover,  icy  currents  drove 
through  the  warmth  and  chilled  him.  What  if  she  did 
not  care  —  or  his  offense  had  been  too  grave  for  love 
to  pardon  ?  He  paused  outside  the  hedge. 

Evidently  the  girl  had  not  heard  him.  The  mocking- 
bird, now  silent,  cocked  a  yellow  eye  downward.  He 
was  used  to  Ariadne.  There  was  no  menace  to  domestic 
security  in  that  golden  head  —  but  this  was  a  different 
creature.  There  was  a  suspicious  stealth  in  its  move- 
ments, and  it  kept  peering  through  the  hedge  uncom- 
fortably close  to  the  knotted  honeysuckle  where  Mrs. 


4i4  ARIADNE   OF  ALLAN  WATER 

Mocking-bird  sat  on  her  nest.  The  familiar  golden 
head  was  leaned  against  the  cherry-tree. 

Then  the  brown  newcomer  cried  "Ariadne"  in  such  a 
voice  that  both  birds  screamed  and  flew  to  a  farther  tree. 

"Ariadne!  Ariadne!  Ariadne!"  was  all  the  man 
could  say  at  first.  He  quite  forgot  that  he  was  pledged 
to  grovel.  There  was  not  even  time  for  explanations. 
Cousin  Nellie  had  done  all  that. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear,"  he  whispered,  "it  has 
seemed  such  an  eternity  ! " 

"What  does  it  matter,"  she  sobbed,  through  happy 
tears.  "We  have  each  other  now." 

At  last  —  and  to  the  watchful  birds  it  seemed  an 
eternity  —  the  golden  head  and  a  bared  brown  one  near 
it  moved  across  the  lawn  toward  the  house. 

The  mocking-bird,  her  temper  and  feathers  much 
ruffled,  came  back  to  her  eggs  and  settled  down  defiantly 
as  if  to  say:  "Those  ridiculous  mortals  shall  not  drive 
me  off  a  second  time." 

But  her  winged  spouse,  now  on  the  hedge  directly  over 
her,  felt  it  safer  to  keep  watch.  "Why,"  he  asked  of  his 
wife,  "do  those  queer  creatures  with  legs  like  to  keep 
their  wings  so  tightly  wrapped  round  each  other  ?  And 
why  should  their  beaks  meet  so  often  ?  I  don't  see  any 
worm." 

"I'm  sure  it  doesn't  concern  us,"  said  the  mother 
bird  crossly;  "I  only  hope  these  eggs  didn't  catch  their 
death.  Speaking  of  worms,  Mr.  Mocking-bird,  I'm 
feeling  quite  faint  with  all  this  excitement.  Suppose 
you  go  fetch  me  one." 

"With  pleasure,  my  dear,"  her  mate  answered;  for 
he  was  a  Virginia  mocking-bird. 

THE  END 


The  Most  Lovable  Heroine  in  Modern  Fiction 


TRUTH  DEXTER 


By  SIDNEY  McCALL 
Author  of  "  The  Breath  of  the  Gods  " 

New  Illustrated  Edition,  with  8  full-page  pictures  by  Alice 

Barber  Stephens  and  title-page  vignette  by 

Jessie  Willcox  Smith 

12mo.     Decorated  cloth,  $1.35  net 

A  novel  of  united  North  and  South  of  rare  power  and 
absorbing  interest.  It  is  but  fair  to  say  that  not  one  of 
the  novels  which  appeared  last  year  on  either  side  of  the 
Atlantic  (including  those  from  the  pen  of  the  most  gifted 
writers)  was  superior  to  this  in  artistic  quality,  dramatic 
power,  and  human  interest  combined.  We  do  not  hope  to 
see  it  surpassed,  even  if  equalled. — Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

Exceptionally  clever  and  brilliant,  it  has  what  are  rarely 
found  with  these  dazzling  qualities, —  delicacy  and  genuine 

sentiment. — Brooklyn  Times. 

A  fine,  sweet  and  strong  American  romance. — New  York 
World. 

I  don't  know  how  to  praise  it  enough.  I  can't  recall  any 
novel  which  has  interested  me  so  absorbingly  for  years. 
It  is  a  matchless  book !  —  Louise  Chandler  Moulton, 

The  author  at  once  takes  place  among  the  foremost 
novelists  of  the  day.  —  Boston  Transcript. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


A    000  059  031     5 


